July 10, 2021

Anna died when she was 8,667 days old. As of July 10, 2021, I am older than my older sister. And while I wouldn't say I have survivor's guilt, it isn't fair that I am "older" than her, that I am living longer than she did.

I suppose it shouldn't mean anything that I am 8,668 days old and Anna only got to see 8,667 days. The average US life expectancy based on a quick Google search is right around 78 years, which is close to 28,400 days. Anna, in a sense, got 20,000 days of her life taken away from her. 

And yet, she didn't. Every day for Anna was an infinitude and every tomorrow was a dream. God gave her each day and Anna thanked Him with laughter and joy and sometimes anger and impatience and a whole personality words cannot describe. But Anna took each day as her own, and every day no matter what she put out, she rarely put out the fight she was fighting, and she fought that fight hard. 

I know, because I'm fighting it too. I'm just fighting it longer, and recently my fight has gotten easier. So, maybe in a sense, I do have survivor's guilt. I often think I'm not using my life the way I should be. I know we romanticize people when they die, but looking back I think Anna had a life to be proud of, and she did that in fewer days than I did. 

In a way, this odd celebration of life I am experiencing today feels like a midlife crisis, a crisis that is pushing me to be better, holier, happier, more loving and more care-free. I still look up to my late sister - she is still older than me, and the way I remember her makes her feel much older and wiser. I feel too young, too inexperienced to be 8,668 days old when I compare myself to Anna. I don't feel like I've done enough. 

 And that's the crazy thing. Anna was so young. I know that now. I keep asking myself, "What if I were dead now?" and that question is heavier than a harmless hypothetical. It is a very real possibility, the evidence being Anna herself. If I were dead now, what would my life be? What would my family say about me? What have I gotten to experience, what do I still want to do? I'm lucky enough to ask these questions. Anna did not really get any warnings. I've said in the past that I would be content with dying once I got married. To marry Noelle, the love of my life, was all I wanted to do. And I still think that is true. While I don't want to die, I would be content with it. But the point is, we don't get to decide that. If I died the day before my wedding day, I wouldn't have been able to negotiate with God. 

Today, I feel as though I am just starting my life. I graduated from college last year, I'm almost a year into my career and my marriage, I have a honeymoon planned, I hope to start a family one day, I hope to take road trips with said family and create holiday traditions and get promoted at work and see every major league baseball stadium, there is a possibility that I want to write a book, and I want to do so much more. 

But is that life? It may be living, but what is life? Because Anna had a life and when we reflect on it, we recognize she didn't get to do most of that stuff. I'm sure she had her own list of things to do, and how much did she cross off? And yet, Anna's life was beautiful. 

So while my life feels like it is just beginning, I recognize that it begun 8,668 days ago. And each day on this earth, whether you have a lung disease or not, is a blessing. And it doesn't matter what you get to do or not do, but how you live and think and pray and treat one another, that creates your life. 

So this, my 8,668th day on this planet, is dedicated to my older sister. She was strong, funny, animated, stubborn, messy, courageous and brave. And she lived.