Death's opposite

I recently read an excerpt from a memoir by one of the survivors of the soccer team plane crash in the Andes -- you know, the one where they ate the dead to survive. The author is actually one of the two people who hiked out to get help and save the rest of them. It was surprisingly poignant and life affirming and the following passage really spoke to me:

"In that moment, all my dreams, assumptions, and expectations evaporated into the thin Andean air. I had always thought death was the constant, and life was only a short, fragile dream. I felt a sharp and sudden longing for my mother and sister [who died in the crash], and for my father, whom I was sure I would never see again. But despite the hopelessness of my situation, the memory of him filled me with joy. It staggered me--the mountains could not crush my ability to love. In that moment, I discovered a simple, astounding secret: Death has an opposite, but it is not mere living. It is not courage or faith or will. The opposite of death is love. How had I missed that? How does anyone miss that? My fears lifted, and I knew that I would not let death control me. I would walk through that godforsaken country with love and hope in my heart. I would walk until I'd walked all the life out of me, and when I fell, I would die that much closer to home."

Miracle in the Andes
Nando Parrado