What Would You Leave Behind?

Last night D and I settled into our respective dents in the couches to flip channels and try to find something worthwhile to watch. This being the summer season of ridiculous reality shows, there wasn't much on - and yes, we actually found ourselves watching "I Survived A Japanese Game Show".

Following said ridiculous game show (that I swear made me think I was in a bad episode of the Twilight Zone) the 20/20 special featuring the life and death of Randy Pausch, the professor who gave an amazing last lecture to students following a diagnosis of terminal pancreatic cancer aired.

I've seen and read and been exposed to a lot of stories regarding life and death and cancer, I mean, my dad died of cancer almost three years ago, but I was especially touched by this story - not because of the same old story of 'man gets cancer, leaves legacy for his children' but because of the amazing attitude this man had as he lived the last months, weeks, and days of his life.

He chose to be happy, to honestly live the remainder of his life to the fullest - to enjoy the time he had with his kids - to make memories - to leave for them a roadmap, if you will, of what kind of life he wanted his three children to have.

At the end of his lecture - he quickly noted that his hour long dialogue - given to students and colleagues under the premise of how one should live life - wasn't truly for them - it was for 'my kids.'

Both D and I had tears in our eyes watching and listening to this beautiful story.

I wonder what I would leave behind for my kids. Would I have the strength to be happy, and not wallow in the unfairness of having to leave early? Would I have the willpower to enjoy each breath, knowing it could indeed be my last? Would I be able to create for them in a few short weeks the lifetime of memories I would hope could carry them through their lives?

More importantly - why aren't I doing those things now?

I constantly find myself looking ahead - the 'grass is always greener' syndrome - thinking life would be better if we moved closer to my parents, if I could stay home with the kids and not work, if we were far, far away from the crazies that are D's family.

I realized that I should stop worrying about the if's, and worry about the nows. I should concentrate on the time I have with these two beautiful children, and the man who gave them to me instead of lamenting over the fact that everything else in life isn't perfect. If tonight was my last night, if this breath was my last, I would want my children to remember a happy, smiley mom, someone who giggled with them and let them eat chocolate cookies for dinner (well, maybe not for dinner - but certainly after) and not the sad, sullen, broken mom that they've been saddled with.

So, perhaps I should try to think about my actions as ones that could be my last, take a few cues from a man who simply loved his family, and try to live my life to the fullest. Perhaps laugh a bit more and dwell on the negatives a little less.