My hands were shaking as my mother zipped up the back of my black knee length cotton dress. There was a lump in my throat the size of a golf ball threatening me not to go to church that day. “No one likes going to funerals sweetie.” My mother said to me as she smoothed out my straight dark hair. “But after, we always feel happy that we went.” I couldn’t for the life me make sense of what she had just said, how could someone feel happy after saying goodbye to someone for the last time? Adam was my uncle’s God son, and he was twenty-eight when he died so because of this he didn’t get to live a long life like so many other people are fortunate enough to have the chance to do. But even though he was only with us for twenty-eight years, Adam did in fact live a happy life. I didn’t know Adam, but I wish I did.

You might be thinking, “How could someone she did not even know have such a great impact on her?” And I could not give you an answer to that question even if I tried. All I know is that after leaving that church I had a different outlook on life and it is all thanks to him. All I knew about Adam for years was that he had a brain tumor and he was adored by my cousins, his family and his wife to be. I would listen to my aunt tell my mother about Adam and his treatments, and for months the conversations would switch from good to bad then from bad to worse. We kept Adam in our prayers. In September of 2012 I attended Adam’s funeral. I thought of how I was going to react after seeing my three heart-broken cousins in that kind of state. I decided I was going to block out any sadness for as long as I could.

My plan worked perfectly until I walked in to the church, the alter was filled with pictures of Adam at every age. They were beautiful pictures surrounded by colourful flowers that made the room smell fresh and warm. I scanned the pews for my cousins and caught sight of my fourteen year old cousin Robyn the both of us locking eyes. Instantly she started to cry and ran into my arms, I consoled my baby cousin who has never known pain like this. I noticed myself sobbing and needless to say my whole ‘blocking out the sadness plan’ was completely ruined. I stood in the middle of the church for countless minutes holding my cousin, probably failing at the attempt to make this day that one bit easier for her. I looked up with my red, puffy eyes and saw my eighteen year old cousin Erin. That day she put on a brave face as usual, her eyes full and shiny from the tears, although forcing a small smile. I passed my baby cousin to my mother delicately like I was nestling a baby bird with an injured wing, she took over my job in comforting her as I grabbed my older cousin and held her tightly. There was nothing else I could do than be there for them. Trying to collect myself I gave her a weak smile and sat with my parents in the pew next to us. We sat there in silence.

When the service began, my mother placed her hand over mine and I braced myself. I took a deep breath, breathing in the scent of the flowers that made me feel good inside and tried to hold on to that feeling. The priest walked up to the alter to start, he said a few words about Adam and his 10 year fight. “Life really is precious” he said. This is one of those things you hear all the time but never really think about. “We are going to have a few people come up and share with us some personal stories and memories about Adam.” I grasped my tissue and held it firmly. Friends and family of the beloved man spoke so fond of him. They used words like, fighter, and warrior to describe their friend but the word I heard the most when describing Adam was “happy.” They said things like “Adam would want you to remember the happy times” and “think of him smiling.” I realized that was why they were sharing funny and happy memories instead of talking about his death, because that’s what Adam would have wanted.

When Adam’s father spoke he talked about Adam he described him as a good man that was always happy and smiling and never taking any moment for granted. “He didn’t let this thing beat him, not really.” His father said proudly. I thought about what he meant by that and smiled to myself. “He could have just sat at home and let it get to him but he didn’t.” Warm tears rolled down my even warmer cheeks, never, have I ever heard a dad sound so proud of his son. Through everything that stood in his way, he still wasn’t afraid to live. That thought alone raised so many questions in my mind. Why should we only be forced to live when we know our lives might be cut short? I thought. Why can’t we always think like this? Why can’t we always think like Adam? Through all the speeches said that day I learned that Adam wanted to try, wanted to succeed, wanted to fail, and wanted to go on with his life as if everything were normal. I continued to smile and admire him for that. I closed my eyes and took a deep breath like I did at the beginning of the service; I smelled the flowers one more time and felt that good feeling running through me. I was going to remember that good feeling forever and how I felt at that very moment. I almost felt new, like I was being reborn with a new view of life.

That day will stay with me forever; because it gave me a new perspective on life that day. When I walked out of the church I knew I was not going to let little things ruin my days or be afraid of seizing an opportunity anymore, or be afraid of living. Every time I accept a new challenge and face a fear I smile and thank Adam for what he taught me. I know so many other people felt the same way after they left that day and I hope Adam knew how much of an impact he had on so many people. He changed lives and all he had to do was be himself. The love for him was so powerful, I wish everyone I knew could have been there to have witnessed what I was lucky enough to be a part of. Adam was a fighter, a good man and was loved by all. I didn’t know Adam, but I wish I did.