A friend of ours had a stroke this week. As I write this, she is lying in a hospital bed unable to speak or move, with her eyes fixed on the ceiling as her husband and kids sit around her. She is only 45, active, doesn’t smoke, all of that. But then came this brain tumor…

I had the privilege of coaching one of her kids in baseball for four years. Man, the times we all had, especially at games, when the families would gather and we, the adults, would ensure that every kid was given the chance to develop and grow. This woman was always at the forefront of my cheering section–especially for the strikeout kings, at least until we taught them how to hit. Oh, did we teach them.

But at this moment nobody knows whether she’ll survive surgery, or how she’ll be if she does. At she least she got to love her husband and kids fully before this time arrived–in that beautiful nonconformist way that was always hers. Hopefully she’ll get to carry on with that, but at this point nobody knows what will come to pass.

Life is so brief. I guess I’m writing this to remind you, as I hope you’ll remind me, to love those at hand while you can. In the end, as we each approach our final breath, I can think of no greater legacy to leave behind–even great art.