| -- End Ad Box ---> | | | | to die today? |
| Am I going to die today? It’s a thought | | | | I know all about death. I watched bed side as |
| that generally doesn’t run through my | | | | disease and sickness ravaged the body and mind |
| head on a regular basis. Should it? Should I be | | | | of someone very close and special. In this case, |
| worried? A young man woke up this morning filled | | | | she knew she was going to die. It was just a |
| with boyhood dreams of flying with the birds and | | | | question of how long she was willing to fight and |
| soaring above the clouds. Did he think he was | | | | let me say, she fought with the courage and |
| going die today? Probably not, but he did. Flew his | | | | ferocity of a lion. When her body finally betrayed |
| small plane into the side of an apartment building in | | | | her and she slipped away, I was devastated but |
| Manhattan. Terrible accident. Terrible tragedy. He | | | | lucky. I had the chance to say goodbye. Tell her I |
| flies no more. | | | | loved her. Tell her thanks for everything. Tell her |
| A wonderful woman I knew, a neighbor, crashed | | | | how proud I was to be her daughter. |
| her car on a bridge one rainy day returning home | | | | People die everyday of sickness or in accidents, |
| from some innocent shopping. I wonder, as she | | | | because of war and malice. We pause for a |
| was brushing her teeth that morning and combing | | | | moment and say oh how sad then |
| her hair, did she look in the mirror and say, | | | | continue to talk on our cell phones and chomp |
| I’m going to die today? Do you | | | | French fries. It’s so much easier to look |
| know? Is there a feeling you get? | | | | the other way and pretend that these tragic |
| Did that pilot look up and see the building before | | | | things don’t happen to you and me. But |
| his plane hit? Did he scream? I can only imagine as | | | | they do. All the time. And we never know what |
| his plane lost altitude and spiraled downwards, he | | | | to say. Somehow sorry for your loss |
| knew there was going to be a crash. But die? We | | | | seems so lame. So many times we say nothing |
| never think we’re going to actually die. We | | | | and stand there feeling embarrassed and |
| may get seriously injured but we won’t | | | | inconvenienced by someone else’s loss. |
| die. That happens to other people. Not us. | | | | I’ll always remember the last words my |
| We’re a society of risk takers and | | | | mom whispered to me before she died. She |
| adventure seekers. We push the limits as far as | | | | opened her tired eyes, smiled and said, hi, |
| we can, jumping from planes, diving with | | | | like today was just any old day. Something so |
| dangerous sea creatures, loving every minute of | | | | casual, so simple. Did she know those would be |
| it. But sometimes the parachute doesn’t | | | | the last words she ever spoke? I think she did. |
| open and the sea creature attacks and | | | | She knew her time had come. |
| we’re left again to wonder, Am I going | | | | |