Counting Each Moment

Cover photo by Martin Geisler

Yesterday in Los Angeles, a wonderful tenor I know from my work as a singer in Philadelphia suffered a heart attack and departed this world while warming up for a rehearsal with The Crossing Choir. My heart goes out to each of Jeff Dinsmore's dear friends and colleagues who watched as he passed while working, doing something he loved. I cannot even begin to imagine their shock and loss over the talented, smart, and funny guy who had just stood in their midst.

After receiving the news yesterday afternoon, I called one of our mutual friends to make sure he had heard, and we talked about Jeff and the fleeting nature of our precious lives. I went for a run, soaking in the wind and spring air, enjoying the sights of the not yet red, full moon. While running, I couldn't help but consider the one positive thing about the details of Jeff's passing; though untimely, it occurred among friends and music.

Yesterday, I spent time among fellow actors and continued to learn while perfecting my craft. This morning, I sat in an audience for the new musical Aladdin, watching other young performers sing and dance and smile for adults and some of the most adorable children with plenty of wishes for any genie who would care to listen. Among all of the new things to learn, see, and hear, I had to ask, "How do we cope with the loss of someone so young and the truth of our brief but beautiful lives?"

We must live them. Fully, as often as possible. I will run my marathon this fall. I have skydived. I can't begin to retell all of the incredible performances in which I've been a part or the gorgeous skies I've seen. Yet there are so many, countless things I have yet to do, some of which I may only dream, some I have not yet imagined. My words are but air compared to the life led and now cut short while preparing to premiere a new work to the world. May we all honor the lives now lost by living ours each day. 

Dream as if you’ll live forever. Live as if you’ll die today.
— James Dean