August 20, 2007

• Choices and Risks

  As I sat there on the cold hospital floor last night looking around at all the sad, tear-worn faces, many thoughts ran through my head.  We all gathered there because we all just lost someone dear to us.  To most of us there, he was our Fraternity Brother.  But more than that, he was a friend–someone who was always there, who had a good head on his shoulders and cared deeply for those around him.  He’s one of the few people I know that always had a smile on his face.

  I’ve had many good conversations with him and we clicked pretty well.  My fondest memory of him was we when a bunch of us were talking about handball and the discussion came up about who was the best in the fraternity.  All my life, I have had many people tell me they can beat me even though they’ve never seen me play.  He never said it.  Instead, he looked me in the eye and told me that he was better and then proceeded to demonstrate his ability on the handball court.  We never played against each other, but I was able to tell that he was in fact better.  That was the kind of person he was–not someone who was arrogant, but someone who was confident of his own abilities. 

  As I sat there trying to bring up memories about him, I wondered about something else.  Normally, when someone we know passes away, we often come to realize that life is really a very fragile thing.  We all know there is expiration date, but we don’t know what the date is.  I hate to say it sometimes, but even if you lived till 100, life is short.  Regardless of how old you are, just take a second and think back.  You would realized that time flew by and it only seemed like it was only yesterday when you were a kid. 

  I wondered how he felt about his life and how he lived it.  Besides wishing him to be alive, I really wished I could ask him that one question–”Was it worth it?”  He passed away last night because he lost control of his bike and hit a tree, causing internal bleeding.  He was in critical condition when he was in the hospital and passed away a couple of hours later.  I want to know if he thought riding a motorcycle was worth it.  Everyone knows of the risks involved with riding one.  One friend said to me, “I would never ride one because getting into an accident is inevitable.” 

  Would it be better if we never took such risks in life?  If no one ever wanted to ride motorcycles, do extreme sports, climb mountains, free-fall, etc.  More people may be alive if none of those things were available, but what about the quality of our lives?  Is living it with excitement and pushing ourselves with activities that pump our adrenaline, but also risking our physical well-being and even our life–is it worth it? 

  On one hand, death makes us realized that life is short and anything can happen.  We should live everyday like it’s our last–but what if by doing that, it literally makes us our last day?  Would this motorcycle accident deter other people to who know him to stop riding?  If his death was from something else, would it motivate more people who have always wanted to ride a motorcycle to finally pick it up?  It’s a really tough question. 

  I have always believed in having fun and experiencing as much as I can.  I always wanted to ride a motorcycle, but I didn’t want one enough to get one.  However, I have always wanted to do other things like scale Mount Everest or climb Yosemite.  At Everest, I might freeze to death or die of brain hemorrhaging.  At Yosemite, I might lose grip and fall to my death.  Knowing these risks, I still aspire to do them.  Why?  Do I really need those things in my life to feel alive or that I have lived a complete life?  Am I willing to wager my life on it so that I can win back some unbelievable experiences?  What’s going to stop me from trying to scale the other 6 summits of the world?  What’s going to stop me from trying to climb other crazy mountains?  What if I become a pro at what I do and decide to do it without gear? If I do accomplish those things, where does it stop?  If I eventually died from these activities and someone did ask me if it was worth it, would I positively answer yes?

  None of these questions can be answered.  Ultimately, we do what we like and what makes us feel good.  Some people never try anything and die regretting that they hadn’t really lived.  Some live life to the fullest and die doing so.  There is really no such thing as balance when it comes to these things.  You can be as careful as you want, but when your time is up, there is nothing you could do about it.  You could never try anything, live a sheltered and protective life and still end up dying young.  And then there are those who slave at their job so they can make more money to eventually live the grand life they have always dreamed about–only to realize that they are now too old to do the things they have always wanted to do. 
  

  Every choice we make, we carry risks.  Some with less risks while other choices have more risks.  Do they really determine what the expiration date is on your life?  Not necessarily.  However, to think that there is no relation at all, is really living life recklessly.  I don’t think he lived his life recklessly, except that unfortunately, his time was up.  I think that he would tell me that he loved riding his motorcycle and every second on it was a great feeling.  Obviously, in hindsight, he would choose life, but hindsight is always 20/20.  Instead I think the only regret he probably has, is not saying goodbye to those he loved. 
  

  ** ** ** **

  John, you were the youngest Brother to be addressed by his first name by me because that’s how much I liked and respected you.  We never got to play that game of handball and even though I know you’re better than me, I think it would be a very close game.  You better keep your game sharp because when I meet you on the other side, I don’t want to hear any excuses from you. 
  

  You were a great Brother and a great Friend to many.  You will definitely be missed.

  RIP – John “Heist” Lau – 8.18.07
  

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