Roisin W.
If you’re reading this, it's a great day to be alive.
All my life, I have always been thinking about what is next. In high school, the focus was college – where I would go, who I would be friends with, what I would major in. As I go into my senior year, I am overwhelmed by the opportunities, paths, and choices to make in my life. But something that grounds me, day in and day out, is living in today’s present moment.
I had it all figured out by the end of my freshman year at Syracuse. Or so I thought. A lot of things changed in my life within one year of when I thought I had it all figured out. I added a new major, found friends who showed me what true friendship is like, and most significantly, my dad was diagnosed with multiple myeloma, a cancer with no cure. Cancer. If you aren’t personally affected by it, the c-word almost takes your breath away. The more you hear it, the less it feels like your heart is going to leave your chest. His diagnosis changed my entire perspective on the world. The person who I grew up with as my greatest inspiration was all of a sudden my greatest worry. It was hard to understand why. The best youth soccer coach from my hometown, a person who took the risk to move across the world, someone who is the steady base for our family. The healthiest person in my family was secretly being attacked by a disease he had no control over getting.
Learning that your dad has a terminal disease at the age of 53 was the hardest pill to swallow. When I first learned of his diagnosis, I struggled with planning my future during a time of such uncertainty with my family. My dad said to me then, as he always does when I am in a typical spiral, to take it day by day. Give your best today, and tomorrow will fall in line.
About a year and a half into his diagnosis, my dad seriously lives his best life. Whether it's golf trips with his childhood friends, weekends in Cape Cod at the ocean, or movie marathons with my mom, he makes the most of every day. Each day, even with chemotherapy, sleepless nights, and endless doctors' appointments, my dad finds joy. Your best does not need to be the best. Showing up for yourself, even if all you can show up for is your morning coffee, is enough to appreciate the gift of every day. Each day truly is a great day to be alive.
And as terrifying as it was, and is, there is no amount of planning that can prepare you for cancer. There is no amount of Google searching that I can do to really know what will happen. There are no statistics on survival rates that guarantee that my dad will walk me down the aisle. My dad’s diagnosis is a constant reminder that there is no promise of tomorrow, as for everyone.
Uncertainty is uncomfortable, point blank. But it's a part of life we cannot avoid. In elementary school, my principal always started the day by saying, “It's a great day to be alive.” And that's how I have learned to live. Even on the days when I slip walking into Whitman, or the Schine Dunkin line is around the building, or you fail your accounting 151 exam, it's a great day to be alive.
Living each day with gratitude does nothing but improve your own peace. If you can, replace overplanning and micro-managing your future with gratitude for the present, because nothing is guaranteed. Be open to all things new: sign the lease with someone you have barely spoken to; they might just become your best friend. Move across the world. Put yourself in situations where you are forced to grow and evolve. Having control does not mean having peace or success.
So, as you approach this school year (especially if you are a senior like me), don’t get lost in planning the next 50 years of your life, and just enjoy this one. Time that has passed can never be regained, but you can take advantage of the present and learn to be grateful for each moment, small or big.
So don’t sweat the small stuff – the decisions you make will impact your life, but your college major, who you take to the next date night, and if your gameday outfit is unique won’t matter in the end of it all. What will matter is the meaningful time spent learning, making friendships, and growing. Do I know what is next for me? No. But that is the beauty of it all. We get to find out how our lives play out by living intentionally and fully in the moment, not the idea. You never know what is in store for you, the good and bad. It's an injustice to yourself not to focus on the gift of the present. At the end of the day, no matter what’s next — it’s still a great day to be alive.
Roisin W., Syracuse University
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