It was a new day, with a new team. I was the youngest person on my soccer team now, since the younger team was eliminated due to lack of interest. I did not know anyone on this older team, and I felt like an outcast. What I did not know was that this team would become my second family. Over the years that I played with this team, I began to become close with some of the kids on the team. One of the guy’s name was Blady.

Blady was always my biggest critic when I was doing something wrong, but he was also my biggest fan when it came to me doing something right. The last time I saw Blady was two days before his accident, and it was the championship game. We ended up  winning that game 1-0, and Blady was the one who scored, and I was the one who gave him the assist. Blady and I always had a great connection on and off the field.

It was three weeks into June  in 2016. The summer was off to a great start with my travel soccer team winning its third straight division championship game. What I didn’t know that within a matter of days I’d have to deal with something I’ve never had to before. Death. It was Tuesday morning when I got the call it was my  coach. As soon as he started speaking, I knew something wasn’t right. His voice was shaky, as if he’d been crying, and he uttered the words “there’s been a terrible accident. Blady is in the hospital, and the doctors do not think he has much time left.” It was moments after that call  when I received a text from another member of my soccer team, telling me that Blady had passed away. Tears filled my eyes and I fell into my mother’s arm in search of comfort. We hugged for a long time, and she was crying too, not because Blady had died, but because she knew this is the first time I had ever lost someone close to me.

I didn’t  know how to feel. I was shocked, and thought it was some kind of sick prank. I laid in my bed for a few hours just reflecting on my thoughts and praying. As much comfort as my parents gave me, I knew I would need more. I knew I needed God to help me. Text messages filled my phone from friends trying to give me their condolences. I ignored most of them, except for my soccer group chat. The plan was to meet at coach's house within the next hour, but I couldn’t move. That is when my dad walked into the room. At first there was nothing but silence, but then there were words. I can’t recall everything that he said but I do remember him saying that he loves me, and that this is a bad way to learn a good lesson. The lesson was to live everyday like it was my last, and  to play every game as if it was my last. He said that Blady didn’t have that chance, but he is the one giving me a chance. Blady did not know that the championship game was going to be his last, or that two days later he would take his last breathe.

It’s tragedies like this that remind us of our mortality. Everybody has a time when the Lord will call us home, and only He knows when it is. This is why we need to love the one’s that he puts into our lives, and to never pass up the opportunities that you encounter, because they may be your last.