Refusing To Die Before Your Time

Recently my sons and I went to a soccer match in Upton Park, England (they call it football there). The game was between West Ham United and Arsenal. Arriving early, we enjoyed food from street vendors that would make a cardiologist weep.

Soon we made our way to our seats and, as the stadium filled, a man sat next to me. He was in his 60s, dressed warmly in a long, dark coat with a scarf around his neck. He looked toward the field with a blank stare.

*photo credit: Ronnie Macdonald, Creative Commons

When their team entered the field, the West Ham fans went wild, creating a deafening roar. In unison, they yelled their choruses and cheers, waving banners and flags. It felt like we were in a giant pub. Most everyone appeared buzzed from their pre-game beers, which only added to their exuberance.

There was one person, however, who wasn’t in on the excitement— my neighbor in the adjacent seat.

He neither stood nor cheered. He didn’t even blink. He stared forward — whether it was at the field or the back of someone’s coat.

West Ham scored first and the underdog fans exploded into a raucous frenzy, my sons and I joining in. My seat neighbor, however, remained still and silent. I was tempted to touch his cheek to be sure that Madame Trousseau hadn’t replaced him with a wax figure while I was in the men’s room.

This went on the entire game. Everyone was in on the fun, the cheers, the songs, and the yelling at the umpires. Everyone except him. And at the end of the game, he left quietly.

Later, my sons and I talked about the game and our great time there, and the man on our row.

We felt sad for him. While we didn’t know his story, he appeared to have lost the light in his eyes.

I was reminded of a quote attributed to Ben Franklin, “Most people die when they’re twenty-five but aren’t buried until they are seventy-five.”

I wondered about this man as a teenager. I’m certain he was alive then. And when he went to a West Ham game, he would have joined in the celebration. Had I been there, we’d have high-fived more than once. I’m sure of it.

But at some point, something happened. It may have been a sudden moment; perhaps it was over time. But one day, the lights turned off. I know many people who appear to have made that decision. They’re breathing and walking, but they’re not alive.

I’ve been there before. I imagine that you have too.

Years ago, a woman in her mid 40s named Nancy came to see me for counseling. As she sat down she said,

“I am a physician. I have terminal cancer and sometime within the next year or two, I will die. I am an insecure woman. I want to write. I want to paint. I want a better marriage. But I’ve been afraid to risk. I’m tired of that fear. Please help me. I want to live before I die.”

Two years later, I spoke at her funeral. Prior to her death, she had learned to paint, had written a book, and her marriage had turned around.

I don’t know about you, but like Nancy, I want to stay alive until the day I take my last breath.

Question: Is there some part of your life that has “died” that may need to be resurrected?

Refusing To Die Before Your Time is a post from: Storyline Blog