Sometimes A Song Can Hit You

The other day I was driving down the road...I don't remember where I was going...probably work. I was flipping through the radio stations trying to find a song I could sing along with (my favorite pastitme when I am alone in the car!). I switched to the soft rock station, and they were just introducing a song that I knew well. I turned up the radio. It was a country song by Tim McGraw...he's not my favorite artist, but I do like some of his music, and this particular song "Live Like You Were Dying" happens to hit very close to home with me. I have very rarely been able to get through that song without crying, but it doesn't make me like it any less. So the song starts...
"...I was in my early 40's with a lot of life before me,
when a moment came that stopped me on a dime.."
...and I was suddenly back in that hospital room, Ric was laying in bed and they had just told him that he had cancer, and the doctor had just said that horrible, horrible word 'terminal'...I remember seeing him cry for the very first time. I remember losing it myself and us holding each other while we cried. Then I remember him pushing me away, scrubbing his face and saying that we were absolutely NOT going to feel sorry for ourselves. That song continues ...
"I spent most of the next days,
staring at the x-rays,
talking about the options,
and talking about sweet time."
A cascade of pictures flowed through my mind, so many different doctors, so many different options given and then taken away. Watching Ric lose weight, but refusing to believe that he could be gone. Tim McGraw says...
"I asked him when it sank in that this might be the real end,
how's it hit you, when you get that kind of news?
Man, what'd you do?"
...Ric knew what to do. He lived his life like nothing was wrong. He worked, he played, and he very, very rarely felt sorry for himself.
"I went sky-diving,
Rocky Mountain climbing,
I went 2.7 seconds,
on a bull named Blu Manchu.
And I loved deeper,
And I spoke sweeter
and I gave forgiveness I'd been denying.
And I said someday I hope you get the chance,
to live like you were dying."
Ric may not have gone sky diving or Rocky Mountain climbing, but he lived each day like it was his last and he taught me how important it was to not put off things as you may not have a chance to do or say what you need to.
I had to pull the car over to the side of the road, 'cause I couldn't see where I was driving...it took me a minute or two to get myself back together before I could go on my way. I think of Ric almost every day...even though I'm remarried to the world's most wonderful man and have a beautiful son and incredible step children...I think of him. Sometimes I'm angry with him. Sometimes I cry, like the other day. Sometimes I laugh as I think of all the fun things we did and the good times we had.
But I guess I will always be grateful to Ric for showing me how to "live like you were dying". The picture above was taken when Ric and I lived in Eugene, OR. It was probably taken before he found out he was sick. This is how I remember him. Thank you Ric.