Life Is Short

Two days ago, on Friday, March 21, the BYU Men’s Chorus (of which I am a part) sang its first solo concert of the year (named “Epic” because, well, it was) to a sold out audience.

Later that night, Rhett Fisher, Tenor I, who, like I, was singing with Men’s Chorus for the first time, passed away.

When I found out Saturday afternoon that Rhett had died, it hit me harder than I would have expected. I didn’t know Rhett well, but I knew his face, we had talked a few times, I would have said hi to him if I had seen him anywhere else on campus.

I read this talk from conference a few years ago, and cried for a moment as I thought of all the songs that Rhett would not be able to sing.

One paragraph from this talk stuck out to me. It says, “The Father’s plan of happiness for His children includes not only a premortal and mortal life but also an eternal life as well, including a great and glorious reunion with those we have lost. All wrongs will be righted, and we will see with perfect clarity and faultless perspective and understanding.” I imagined a great and glorious reunion between Rhett and the rest of the Men’s Chorus; maybe we’ll sing our Epic concert through again once more, every one of us present, not a single voice missing from the choir. Maybe we’ll just smile and laugh and be glad that everything did, in fact, turn out all right.

Saturday night was our second concert. I think each one of us sung for Rhett; it could have turned out very badly, but we all managed to keep our emotions inside our hearts and out of our eyes, and it was beautiful.

In a quiet moment during intermission, as I was sitting and reflecting, the thought came to me—life is short.

Later on, during other quiet moments of reflection, I thought more on this idea. Life is short. Death comes to us all, to some sooner and others later but quickly enough to each one of us.

In fact, I decided, life is too short.

Life is too short for mediocrity; it is too short for anything but excellence.

Life is too short for sin. Because we’re fallen and make mistakes, I might change that to say life is too short for unrepentant sin.  

Life is too short for indecision (a personal weakness).

Life is too short for abandoned dreams. It’s too short not to try, even though you might fail.

Life is too short for bitterness, envy, or grudges.

Life is too short for anything but charity towards every single person on this earth.

Life is too short for side hugs, for half-hearted goodbyes.

I plan to remember Rhett. I hope to remember the year that we sang together, lifting up our voices to praise God and express the joy we found in living. And I hope to remember that, though I might still have a comparatively long life ahead of me, life is short, and should be lived as such.