Randy sat across the room from me and said, “I’m going to die.”

I could only nod as my throat filled up with pressure and my eyes with tears.

We looked at each other safer now that he’d spoken the truth. As he spoke the next words, tears splashed onto his thinning cheeks and down his chin unchecked.

“I’m going to be okay – I’m going to heaven, but I’m going to miss my wife and boys.”

Sobs ripped out him as he bent his cancer filled head to his knees. I moved to sat next to him and rubbed his back.

What else can a cousin do?

Later, after we’d blown our noses and wiped our eyes, I asked him, “What would you do if you could do it all again?”

I wondered what magnificent deed or delicious adventure he might reveal. 

“I’d see more sunrises and sunsets. They’re so beautiful.”

“You mean you’d want more days?” I asked thinking a sunrise plus a sunset equaled a day.

“I guess everyone wants more days, but that’s not what I meant. I’d get up every day early enough to see the sun rise and take time to watch the sun set.”

Again, I could only nod as this simple truth washed over my aching soul. At the end of his days it wasn’t more that he yearned for – instead he wished he’d taken time to enjoy the beauty given to him in the days he’d had.

For awhile we sat in silence contemplating his end and my continuing on.

This conversation took place over fifteen years ago. Not long after, Randy entered the final phase of his life and  passed from here to there.

I got up early today with the help of our puppies and the smell of Jon brewing freshly ground coffee in time to watch radiance wash away nighttime’s midnight blue. Tonight, I watched the sky go from summer sky blue to pink and tangerine.

As I took my first sip of coffee, I raised my cup to the sun. “This one’s for you Randy.”

I haven’t seen all the sunrises and sunsets since Randy’s departure for heaven, but I’ve seen more than I would have without this beautiful word legacy he gave me in that quiet moment.