The Torch of Life

I'm still amazed that I'm alive.

A year ago at this time I almost died from a lung disease. As you probably know if you've read this blog over the past year, I got a transplant and went through rehabilitation.

And here I am today, turning 53.

And I'm alive.

I'm probably repeating myself about being alive, but it doesn't get old. There's something so fresh about it.  It's like being alive is something I actually *have*, it's a possession of mine.

Of all the things I have, it's my most valuable possession. I don't belittle the other things in my life, but they are ways to enjoy being alive.

Well, life is not really something that I own -- it's being in the midst of aliveness.

I wish I could express how it really feels. I don't know if I'm doing it justice.

I don't know what's next in my life. But it's not that important to me.

It's like that old phrase, "One day at a time," which never really resonated for me. But now, here I am, alive for another day and taking it as it comes.

I think about the person who gave me their lungs. In some ways, it's not that they gave me lungs, but that they gave me life. They died, and I got to live. They passed on their life to me.

I feel like a torch got passed to me. The torch of life -- this huge, eternal flame.

I'm an organ donor myself, so when I reach the end of my life, I'll pass the torch on to a few other people.

Life never dies.