“Just over four years ago, during what should’ve been the most carefree time of my life, I was forced to face immortality. During a time when every teenager believes he’s invincible and nothing bad can touch him, I came face-to-face with the grim truth that there’s no such thing as invincibility. While my friends were hanging out together, shooting basketball, playing video games, or spending all their spare time with their girlfriends—anything to avoid being stuck at home with their parents—I actively searched for ways I could spend more time with mine.

“When I started applying for colleges in my senior year of high school, my mom urged me to pursue the best. She taught me to set my sights high and to do everything within my power to accomplish everything I wanted out of life. If that meant I had to leave the state and go to college across the country, she would’ve supported that decision. If I started to question my decisions, she almost always had the same reply. She said, ‘Kyle, you have to be happy with your life. I can’t do that for you. What would make you happy?’ Those words guided me through more decisions than I can count or remember.

“My friends applied to schools all over the country, coast to coast. Without telling my mom, I applied for colleges near home because I couldn’t bear the thought of leaving her. After all the years she’d taught me to stand on my own two feet and not worry about her when I left for college, I just couldn’t do it when the time came. I couldn’t leave her.

“Some of you are thinking I’m a mama’s boy, and you’d be right. But not for the reasons you may believe. You see, four years ago, my mom was diagnosed with breast cancer. That alone is scary enough. But then she received even worse news. What’s worse than a breast cancer diagnosis, you ask? A metastatic breast cancer diagnosis. By the time they found the first tumor, the malignancy had already spread to her lung.

“For those of you who are unaware, metastatic breast cancer is currently a death sentence. Every woman is different. Every cancer is different. The timetable depends on the status of the metastasis. But, as my mom explained to me, the disease eventually kills everyone who has it. That’s a sobering fact for a seventeen-year-old young man who relied on his mother for most everything, regardless of how big and tough he thought he was.

“For my spring break that year, our extended family brought Mom to the Tampa area for a surprise vacation. She’d already been through so much by that time, and we wanted her to have some fun and relax. It turned out to be the best vacation we’d ever had. My parents renewed their vows on the beach. Mom and I rode Jet Skis, body-surfed the waves, and took a deep-sea fishing trip. That week changed our lives in many ways. My parents decided to move to the area after I graduated high school, making my decision to leave Vermont an easy one.

“I’ve been asked the same question many times over the course of my last four years here at this college. ‘Kyle, what gives you such a drive to succeed?’ My reply was always something noncommittal and vague because the real answer felt too personal to discuss at the time. I can now sum it up in two words, though: my mom.”

“You see, when I was worried about keeping my grades up and passing my tests, my mom was undergoing surgery that would change her body for the rest of her life. When my class load was considerably more than the average student and I thought I’d never have time to myself again, my mom was treating her burns after undergoing several weeks of radiation therapy. When I was tempted to complain about my unfair professors to anyone who would listen, I thought about the disappointment my mom felt when the oncologist said he had to change her chemotherapy regimen because it was no longer working.

“And every single time my mom faced those problems, she did so without complaint. She’s human, so I’m sure she had moments when she wanted to give in and have a gigantic pity party. If she did, no one else ever knew it. If my mom could do that while fighting for her life, then I could refrain from feeling sorry for myself as a healthy young man in a comfortable college class.

“I kept that same attitude through every difficult class, every disappointing grade, every failure I experienced. Regardless of what I faced, I thought about how my mom would handle it. What would she tell me to do? Then I’d square my shoulders and face it head on. Now you know what drives me to excel, where my empathy for others originates, and most importantly, why I’m proud to be a mama’s boy. I’ll wear that title as long as I live.

“Because of my mom, I attended my first-choice college. Because of my mom, I’m graduating summa cum laude. Because of my mom, I’ve already been accepted into medical school. Because of my mom, I plan to dedicate my life to helping other families in similar circumstances. Because of my mom, I started a Why Not list at seventeen, and I’ve checked at least one thing off my list every single day. Because of my mom, many of you have also started a Why Not list, and have also made it an important part of your daily routine.

“My prayer is that she’ll continue to defy the odds and be there to watch me become a doctor. Then I’ll keep going until I find a way to cure her, because I’m selfish and I can’t imagine my world without her in it.

“As we go forward in our endeavors, whether that means graduate school or straight into a job, there’s one piece of advice I’d be honored if you’d take with you. None of your accomplishments will fulfill you the way the love of your family does. Don’t ever take them for granted.”

---

When Kyle finishes his speech at honors night, I’m a blubbering mess. He didn’t warn me beforehand, so I was not prepared for his words in the slightest. He poses for pictures with the other students graduating with honors, then makes his way over to Blake and me.

“What’d you think of my speech, Mom?”

My reply is to wrap my arms around my son’s neck and hug him tightly. He slips his arms around my waist and easily lifts my feet off the floor. I miss the days when he was little. I’d give anything to go back in time and start all over again. While there are so many things I’d do differently in my life given the chance, having Kyle isn’t one of them.

“You never told me you were going to give up going to school here and stay in Vermont.”

“Because I knew you’d try to talk me out of it. I never would’ve left you, Mom.”

“We’re so proud of you, son. You’re the best of both of us,” Blake says with pride.

“You’ve both taught me so much about perseverance, even when you didn’t think there was any way you’d succeed. I saw that when you two stayed together instead of divorcing.”

Blake and I exchange glances then turn our gazes back to Kyle. “I didn’t realize you knew anything about that.”

“I know you didn’t. I never let on—not really. But I watched, I listened, and I learned from both of you.”

“That’s not a time I’m proud of, Kyle. I wish we’d had a chance to talk about it so you didn’t think too badly of me, though,” Blake says.

“No need to worry, Dad. I figured out what Mom was doing, and I knew it was important to her. Then the more time we spent together, the more I realized it was important to me too. Besides, it’s good for kids to see their parents aren’t perfect, but they still do their best despite their shortcomings. I love you both, and I’m proud to be your son.”

Blake and I go back to our hotel room and leave Kyle to celebrate with his friends. Over the last four years of empty-nesting, Blake and I have grown closer than we ever imagined. Kyle was my main focus for the first eighteen years, I don’t deny that. But now, Blake has my full attention, and I have his. The happiness we’ve brought each other outshines the bad, and we’re stronger for it.

We live life one day at a time, one moment at a time, and check one item off our Why Not list every day. It serves as both a reminder that we’re not the people we used to be, we’re not yet the people we will be, but we both live for the now. Because now is all we have.

Take a hot air balloon ride. Check.

Build a sand castle. Check.

Go on a tour of Italy. Check.

Give others a reason to remember my name. Check.

Live long enough to see my son graduate from college. Check.

Without a promise to the next day, why not do what makes us happy today? Until the end of our time.