Grant Walker, a former music teacher.

“This is the first memory I have of Ivan. It’s always brought a smile to my face. I wish every time I walked into a classroom I could meet a polite, overly talented gentleman, who has a clear spark and fire that you can see right in his eyes.”

Ivan's fingers flew lightly, yet skillfully across the worn white and black keys. He hummed the other melody parts while his fingers did the talking. He jumped back when he realized I was in the room.

"Didn't mean to startle you," I said, taking a step further into the room.

"Oh..." Ivan slowly stood up, "it's okay. Sometimes I get a little lost and need a good jump start."

I laughed and continued walking towards him, extending my hand. I introduced myself and my job, and complimented his talents.

He thanked me and introduced himself. He had a strong handshake and a smile I was certain had melted a few hearts.

"Ah ha," I realized, "I spoke with your mother not too long ago. She thought I might run into you near a piano."

"She knows me well." He almost seemed to blush, modesty coloring his face.

"I would hope so... Well, listen, she said she was headed back to your dorm, if I did run into you."

"Oh, thanks. I suppose I should catch up with her. I'm sure I'll see you around."

"I look forward to it."

Tears trickled down Ivan's face as he played the soft music, wishing it could convey the way he truly felt. I was sure he had lost track of how long he had sat at the piano, but I had listened for well over an hour, feeling every wave of emotion as it filled the room through the wall and into my office. I was certain he would continue playing until he could no longer, or until someone stopped him. That was when I decided to interrupt.

"Ivan?"

I had to repeat myself a few times before he blinked his eyes into focus through his tears and looked up at me. His hair was matted to his head with sweat and his eyes were bloodshot. It was obvious he was worried about something.

"Hi." was all he would say.

"Are you okay?"

Ivan just sat there, motionless, his fingers still glued to the keys. It felt like several minutes before he finally moved his hands to his lap and responded.

"Do you believe in God?"

"You know I do, Ivan."

"Do you believe we can negotiate with him?"

"What do you mean?" I grew nervous at the way this conversation was going.

"Like, when He says your number is up, but you just can't stop playing...so you offer Him a few months of music in exchange for a few more months,” he swallowed hard, “of life.”

"Ivan..."

"I don't know if I have the strength to play anymore, Grant... I'm so tired... There is always constant pain, my head, my heart, and all the real aches. But, at the same time, I can't stop, can't take the chance of leaving them. I promised them I would always fight, stay with them…" Ivan's shoulders sagged with each word, confessing, for what was obviously the first time, the burdens of his heart.

I moved to a chair and sat near him. He remained quiet, allowing myself to soak in his words. I had no idea what to say, but I knew he wanted to hear something. I don't remember him ever being so concerned for himself, or concerned over being concerned for himself. I knew he hated to worry about himself.

"Sometimes...you have to be selfish. You have to throw humility out the window and do what's best for you." I paused, trying to gauge his reaction and clear my throat of the giant lump that was growing. "No one would want you to live in pain, Ivan. You shouldn't have to. We understand that. God understands that. God knows the desires of your heart, remember? You told me that not to long ago. I can't tell you what's best for you, or what you should do, nor can Chris, Tommy, Tony, Brady, or even Kaitee. It's between you and God...and whatever the outcome, we're still going to love you and we’ll stand by you for everything."

I don't remember what we said or did after that... it seemed like the next time I talked to him was when he told me he had stopped treatment for the cancer, and I felt overwhelming guilt over my so-called-advice. I have since replayed our conversation hundreds of times in my mind, wondering if I should have said something different. But in my heart, I know it wouldn’t have been fair to anyone had he tried to continue living a life of pain.