“She died doing what she loved to do…how many of us can say that?”
That was the last line in last week’s “Que Onda, Phil,” but after thinking about it for a while, one has to realize that so many others have died doing what they loved to do. The only difference is that there is no glory in the way they died.
In 1989, a 21-year-old man died of a cocaine overdose. He was not the first, nor the last, yet he still died doing what he loved best. Of course, there was a small blurb in the local paper, but hid death was just another statistic.
In 1988, an 18-year-old girl was killed after leaving a graduation party where tons of alcohol was served. There was really nothing special that separated her from anyone else except for the fact that she was a beautiful young woman with a bright future who happened to love to drink. She also died doing what she loved best. She also was a little blurb in the local paper – another statistic. Obviously, these two are just specks in the world of statistical deaths that have occurred and they probably only impacted a handful of lives, yet they did impact at least one life and one life is enough to make a difference.
These two will never receive the glory that somebody like Steve Irwin or Dawn Brancheau who both died on the job doing what they loved. Irwin’s legacy as the Crocodile Hunter will live on and Brancheau will no doubt receive some sort of memorial at Sea World.
People die every day, most doing what they loved best, whether it is drug overdose or drunk driving or whatever the case may be. They will be space filler for the obituary page and possibly a future memorial page in the classifieds a year later.
There will be no glory for these lives that will simply disappear only to make room for another to die the exact same way…doing what they loved.
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