Live a life that matters

Today I lost a friend. He wasn't my closest friend, but he was a guy I admired. He made a big contribution to society, paricularly to the area of mental health.

In the end he had many metasteses, most cruelly in his spine which left him bedridden for the last few weeks of his life.

His wife created a blog and kept all his friends up to date with his progress towards life end. She did a wonderful job and after his passing today she posted the following.

"It seems appropriate to reproduce this beautiful poem by Michael Josephson here -

Live a Life that Matters

Ready or not, someday it will all come to an end.
There will be no more sunrises, no minutes, hours or days.
All the things you collected, whether treasured or forgotten, will pass to someone else.
Your wealth, fame and temporal power will shrivel to irrelevance.
It will not matter what you owned or what you were owed.
Your grudges, resentments, frustrations, and jealousies will finally disappear.
So, too, your hopes, ambitions, plans, and to-do lists will expire.
The wins and losses that once seemed so important will fade away.
It won’t matter where you came from, or on what side of the tracks you lived, at the end.
It won’t matter whether you were beautiful or brilliant
Even your gender and skin colour will be irrelevant.
So what will matter?
How will the value of your days be measured?
What will matter is not what you bought, but what you built; not what you got, but what you gave.
What will matter is not your success, but your significance.
What will matter is not what you learned, but what you taught. What will matter is every act of integrity, compassion, courage or sacrifice that enriched, empowered or encouraged others to emulate your example.
What will matter is not your competence, but your character.
What will matter is not how many people you knew, but how many will feel a lasting loss when you’re gone.
What will matter is not your memories, but the memories that live in those who loved you.
What will matter is how long you will be remembered, by whom and for what.
Living a life that matters doesn’t happen by accident.
It’s not a matter of circumstance, but of choice.
Choose to live a life that matters"

That befits Philip so well, I feel inadequate in his shadow.

With sadness, Chas

Great poem with some pretty good insight in it. Reminds me of something I came across recently:

Nobody will ever stand up at your funeral and say "He had a really expensive house and some really fancy cars." Don't let stuff define you.

Good poem, thanks for sharing. And sorry for your friend.

Here's something I came across recently that also hit home:

"The greatest tragedy in life is not death, but a life without purpose"

I know one should not do this...so I will...I would change the word "matter" in all the lines it appears with the exception of the next to the last…to….last...as...matter does not last….

I trust that the author of the poem will sense my intent…it seemed as if it was finis…and i tried to convey an openness to "death" that was missing… yet would not inherently change it.
Obviously I purposely and knowingly made a major faux pas…I guess I I judge others the way I judge myself…and if it were me I would not mind…again a major faux pas…I have to let it be…{ that guess itself}

Its difficult to touch your finger tip with the same finger tip…except in reflection…kinda like the ceiling of the sistine chapel.
Chask sorry about your friend…he is still with you…as you know..

Great poem with some pretty good insight in it. Reminds me of something I came across recently:

Nobody will ever stand up at your funeral and say "He had a really expensive house and some really fancy cars." Don't let stuff define you.

a case in point. when the genius steve jobs died there wasn't much good to say about him.

Thanks Cyclone. It certainly seems that we really don't fully appreciate the qualities of individuals until after they are gone.

The world would be a nicer place if we thought of people while they are alive, the way we think of them after they die.

Chas