Life's not the breaths you take

Mark slept very peacefully last night. Actually, my mom did, too. They both “slept like babies,” she said. Each day, Mark is less and less alert. When I left last night, his eyes were open and I once again told him I loved him before leaving. I truly believe he still knew who I was. Today, he opens his eyes but I don’t think he really sees anything or knows who is there. His breaths are becoming quicker and are followed by a few seconds of apnea. It seems like a lot more work for him to breathe today. Although no one knows for sure, the nurses think he might find peace tonight or tomorrow.

Just as I have explained that living in the body of a stroke victim is Mark’s worst nightmare, sitting, staring and waiting for death is mine. I have feared death since I was ten years old when I lost my brother. I find myself going back and forth between wishing I could be anywhere but here, but yet, I can’t really imagine being anywhere else. I’m afraid to leave for a second in fear of not being here for him as he takes his last breath and being here for my mom. Every time there is a break between his breaths, I feel a wave of panic that this might be it and I just don't know how I'm going to react.

When I started this blog, I never thought about the day when I would write my last entry. But over the last few days, that’s all I’ve been thinking about. What will I say to bring to a close the last six years that Mark has been battling this awful disease? What will I say to fully honor Mark’s life and legacy?

Although it’s not quite time for that yet, I have already thought about some things I do and do not want to say. I will never say that Mark lost the battle to cancer; I don’t believe he did. I believe he beat cancer in so many ways. And I believe that without the stroke, he would have kept fighting. I won’t say that Mark gave up or decided to stop fighting. I don’t believe that when someone’s body has finally had enough, it’s a sign of giving up or defeat. As Dr. Kendra said, it’s not that he’s giving up; he’s searching for peace.

I will want to say something about the fact that Mark was like a walking party. He brought joy and fun with him everywhere he went. Even before his cancer, Mark was a person who lived life to the fullest and absorbed every moment. Being single for the first 35 years of his life, Mark was able to do things that many people haven’t done. He traveled the world, and took pictures along the way. He even had a long ponytail when I first met him. Somehow, I feel like a man having a long ponytail demonstrates living life fully. That being said, I am glad he cut it off. ☺

Although he’s not a country music fan, Mark really liked the song “Live like you were dying” by Tim McGraw. I believe Mark always lived his life that way, but made an even more conscious effort to do so over the last six years. He went white water rafting, even though he can’t swim, he drove to Wisconsin when the Antique Road Show was there, he went to New Mexico several times, and started making a five year plan to find property and move there.

If he were able to talk and could give one last wish to the people he loves and cares about, I believe that it would be to live life like you were dying; with no regrets and taking in and truly appreciating each and every moment you have. I know that Mark believed life really is a gift and I don’t think he ever took that gift for granted.

For the last few weeks, I have heard George Strait’s new song, “The Breath You Take” on the radio on my way to work. I cried every time I heard it (which shouldn’t come as a surprise to those of you who know me well) just because I was so touched by the words. I was thinking about that song today and about the new meaning it will hold for me after Mark is gone. He was a living example that life is not measured by the breaths you take but by the moments that take your breath away.

I would encourage you to listen to the song, which again is a country song that Mark probably wouldn’t like, and listen to the lyrics. Mark may not like the song or the artist, but I know he would agree with the lyrics.