Just yesterday, Google’s Doodle (the daily logo changes on the search engine’s main page that honors events, birthdays, and the like) was about Israel Kamakawiwo’ole, the “Voice of Hawaii”, who would have been 61 years old. He was a gifted musician whose life was cut short when he succumbed to respiratory failure at the age of 38.

I’ve heard his music played a lot on Radio Margaritaville, but never knew anything about him. It turns out that he had a brother who died at age 28, and almost all of his family died from complications of morbid obesity; he was approximately 700 pounds at the time of his death.

Quote: “I was scared when I lost my mother, my father, my brother, my sister,” Israel told de Mello. “I guess this is gonna sound kind of weird, but I’m not scared for myself for dying. Because I believe all these places are temporary. This is just one shell. Because we Hawaiians live in both worlds. It’s in our veins. When our time come, don’t cry for me. Don’t cry for me. Plant a tree in the middle … where they play soccer,” he laughs. “Kind of small, then I’ll grow big.” – Israel Kamakawiwo’ole, the “Voice of Hawaii”, National Public Radio

Such a short life seems tragic to me, although we never know how long our lives will be. Still, to know and accept with some certainty that your life will be a short one has to be devastating, despite his words. I admit, though, that one of the reasons I finally decided to give weight loss one more try is because I felt like I was shortening my own life. While I still don’t know what even today holds, I draw some comfort in the sense that I’ve done what I can to improve my health while I’m still on this earth.

When your brain doesn’t match your body, and your body continually works against you, that sense of your own impending doom is pervasive. At a little more than half his weight, my every move felt as if I wore a body suit of bowling balls. Walking felt like pushing through neck-deep water, but without the weightless feeling water provides. I limited pushing myself for fear that pushing my body too hard would land me in the hospital — or worse. I regretted the folly of my younger days; still grossly overweight, giving up hope on the thought of improving my health and fooling myself into believing I was fine and healthy. For a while, I was, but the years of increased weight on my joints took their toll and I have paid for it.

Giving up hope.

I cannot fathom how a 700 pound body must have felt; I know well the burdens my own caused. My burgeoning body greatly affected my mind, and yet his shone through. What an amazing lesson to still find that hope, to create, to enchant a world with your song despite whatever might have been going on physically. To accept a short life and to make it count. To push through regardless, and make a mark. That’s a lesson all of us can appreciate, regardless of the bodies where our brains reside.

He became the Voice of Hawaii, despite whatever physical challenges he faced. His light shined through. He sang of hope and love, regardless of whatever prison his body might have been. I doubt it was an easy path to his success; so many who become successful at what they set out to do must persevere though endless attempts before they finally get it right. Thomas Edison finally perfected the light bulb, but it took 10,000 attempts; ‘I have not failed. I have just found 9,999 ways that do not work’. I’ve certainly failed, myself, but I am eternally faithful I tried one more time.

Serve while we can. Be present for our loved ones while we can. Look forward with anticipation and love. Because there is hope; no matter how many times we try, the next one may be the most successful, despite the past.