Actor James Van Der Beek died this month at age 48. He was a good-looking, talented, and seemingly decent guy, and his death strikes me as yet another example of how unfair the world is. Why should he be taken and not certain other, awful people without whom this world would be so much better off? It also strikes me as yet another indictment of this country’s healthcare system. He couldn’t afford his cancer treatments, and he ended up not only selling his Dawson’s Creek memorabilia, but also resorting to crowdfunding. That’s not how it should be. Shame on this country’s corrupt politicians, its rapacious corporations and greedy shareholders!
Van Der Beek’s hometown was, incidentally, not far from my own, making us members of the same granfalloon: a meaningless commonality that nonetheless seems important, in this case my feeling being that we came from the same place. And then there’s Eric Dane, who just died from ALS at age 53. He’s in a granfalloon with me, too. Not one of place, but of time.
I know that the lesson I ought to take from their deaths–indeed, from all deaths–is that tomorrow is never guaranteed. I am in a place mentally and emotionally where I don’t care much, if I’m being honest. Chronic pain makes gratitude difficult. But I think that if I were to be diagnosed with a terminal illness that I would probably care then and regret not having spent my time better. A terminal illness gives one a known (roughly) deadline, and deadlines are powerful. What is hard to wrap one’s mind around is the fact that the deadline is always there, whether we know it or not. To live a full life, we should assume our personal deadline is right around the corner and act accordingly.
I want to take that lesson to heart and apply it. A real zest for life is out of reach for me right now, I think. But I may be able to muster some “fake it ’til you make it” energy. I’m trying, anyway.