Monologue from Dying to Have Known:

The messages of early Spring were everywhere.

And with each passing day now, signs of new life intensified.

I took the courting call of the ruffed grouse to be the metaphor of our brightening future,

underscoring that life will find a way.

For each of us, eventually, whether we're ready or not, some day, it will come to an end.

There will be no more sunrises, no minutes, hours, or days.

All the things you collected, whether treasured or forgotten, will pass to someone else.

Your wealth, fame, and temporal power will shrivel to irrelevance.

It will not matter what you owned or owed.

Your grudges, resentments, frustrations, and jealousies will finally disappear.

So too your hopes, ambitions, plans, and to-do lists will expire.

The wins and losses that once seemed so important will fade away.

It won't matter where you came from or on which side of the tracks you lived.

It won't matter if you're beautiful or brilliant.

Even your gender and skin color will be irrelevant.

So what will matter?

How will the value of your days be measured?

What will matter is not what you bought, but what you built.

Not what you got, but what you gave.

What will matter is not your success, but your significance.

What will matter is not what you learned, but what you taught.

What will matter is every act of integrity, compassion, courage or sacrifice that enriched, empowered, or encouraged others to emulate your example.

What will matter is not your competence, but your character.

What will matter is not how many people you knew, but how many will feel a lasting loss when you're gone.

What will matter is not your memories, but the memories that live in those that loved you.

What will matter is how long you will be remembered by whom and for what.

A life lived that matters is not of circumstance, but a choice.

Monologue from Dying to Have Known by Steve Kroschel