As you read this, I should be kicking up sand in Florida. I may have cancer, but it doesn’t have me …not yet anyway.

While I still have enough energy to travel, I want to sit on the beach one more time. I want to watch the gorgeous sun settle somewhere in the western hemisphere and listen to the waves hitting the shore in that unrelenting rhythm.

There is something about the ocean that is absolute and calming. It is a reminder of a force we can’t fathom or explain.

While sitting alone, facing the endless horizon, my thoughts often turn to the serious or philosophical. Terminal illness has a way of making you face the tough issues like life and death.

When my father was dying with stomach cancer in 1982, he commented that it seemed he had only just begun his life and now it was virtually over. He was 62. Now I am in his place and I am only 54. I understand now more than ever what he meant.

Seems like just yesterday I was in grammar school sweating out my turn in the spelling bee. Where did the years go between the high school football games and the pacing off of my burial spot?

Makes me think of that scripture, "… For what is your life? It is even a vapour, that appeareth for a little time, and then vanisheth away." Will the world know that I have been here or care? I hope so. To have lived a life in vain would be a waste of God’s energy.

I would like more time to leave a legacy. As the waves splash upon the shore, I am reminded that I have already had a quota of years to do just that. Life goes on and right now, somewhere, a baby is being born.

My opportunity to make a difference may soon be past. Somebody else will have a chance. Do I have any parting words for the babes of this world? You bet.

Make every moment count. Discover the meaning of life. Give more than you take. And, finally, take time to sit on the beach, wiggle your toes in the sand, and watch the sun set.