[Editor's note: the following allegory has something to do with cancer. Sometimes we have trouble figuring out what the narrator is trying to say, so don't blame us.]
There are certain bursts of perfection in summer that if noticed, bring such a feeling of joy to the observer it seems as if a window to heaven was opened, such as a crepuscular walk beneath the umbrella of a majestic tree and suddenly hearing a choir of cicadas break into song overhead. One must remain alert for the joys of this time of year, as they often announce themselves softly. While running along a country road one morning I saw a merry group of white butterflies darting among the wildflowers growing in the ditch next to me. They merged in pairs and trios, then flew off only to meet again, as if sharing the morning gossip.
I was halfway through my journey when I saw a large group of runners coming my way. They looked like an organized group so as we met I stepped off the road to let them pass. Racers of all ages and sizes buzzed past me, each with a rather steely look on their faces - an expression of determination that I found amusing at first, then somewhat mysterious. Before I could decipher anything more an older gentleman coming toward me suddenly fell. I went to him, but before I got there a young girl, maybe ten years old, swerved into me and also dropped to the pavement. I felt a chill inside and stopped. A man crumpled just up the road, and it seemed that every minute another racer collapsed. The rest of the pack kept up their pace, each lost in their own thoughts.
It was some time before I came to my senses, and when I felt my legs move I went to the nearest body lying in the road, a woman. She was awake and smiled at me.
"What happened?" I asked. "Are you all right? Who are all these people?"
"We're all running our final race," she said, "and we don't know how long we're supposed to go."
"But why did you fall? Can you finish the race?"
"I didn't know what it was about while I was running," she replied. "All I knew was that I had to keep going. As I ran it became more and more difficult - the pain soon became unbearable, and that's when I collapsed."
"You seem to be fine," I said. "In fact, you look happy."
"Yes, I just realized that the finish line is when you can't take one more step."
"And then what?" I asked.
"I feel wonderful now."
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We just had a friend pass away a couple of weeks ago from Lung cancer. We saw him the day before he died. As a nurse, okay it's been 35 years, I've seen people who were about to die, and he wasn't quite there. He had signed up with hospice and they thought a couple of weeks.
But as you put it so elequently "the finish line is when you can't take one more step". He couldn't take one more step.