I Lived well, and I Died with no Regrets

At the age of fifteen, in parallel with school, I got a job as a young apprentice and received a salary to support my future expenses in sport.

My first amateur fight was at the age of fifteen after spending a year in isolation training with Coach Miller at her gym. My techniques and physical preparation were exemplary but there was still no experience in my cartel.

Even with difficulties and fighting from start to finish not to be knocked down, in the end I won the first fight. My trainer and I were happy with everything. However, we needed more experience and, in the future, sponsorship.

Time passed and I evolved little by little, nothing out of the ordinary. I gained more weight and more skills along with experiences. Eventually we got a fight promoter which helped me immensely on my journey to pro. I entered the Brazilian boxing Olympics where I had a very good record of victories and defeats and favorable to my image.

At the age of seventeen everything was perfect. My body, my image and everything that was needed was doing well. I was quite tall at around six feet seven which made me very agile and had a very effective long range. And I managed to enter a professional Brazilian league, no longer needing to work outside and being able to dedicate myself only to boxing.

In the professional league my category was light heavyweight out-boxer. I was a rising star. When I turned eighteen I could already leave the orphanage on my own and before I left they gave me the news that would mark everything.

After picking up all my things and saying goodbye to everyone, the dean called me into her office and put me in a chair while offering me a cup of tea.

- Little Jean, you've really grown up a lot. From an energetic child to a professional fighter... Said the dean as she sipped her cup.

- Remember when you were doing your exams and they gave you the news that you were sick? Well, you really are. Before you leave, I need to tell you the details now that you're an adult. The dean has always been cold to everyone at the orphanage and this time would be no different. She would give me the most shocking news of my life as if it were nothing.

- You have a degenerative disease that will not show symptoms before your death, you will not be able to pass the twenty-eight years of life. Your body won't last until then...

After these words, the room we were in was silent. Only the curtains swayed in the wind, softening the tense atmosphere between the two of us.

- I'm sorry to ask, it's not that I'm doubting you, but do you have a medical report or even something to prove to me? I said in a tense, non-accepting tone.

The dean had put her hand in a drawer under her desk and pulled out a sheaf of thick sheets wrapped in a document folder with dates underlined and handed it to me.

I took the sheets and got up and without saying a word left the room while looking at the room and finally faced the dean who didn't like the situation and I withdrew.

On the way out, I greeted the rest of the young people who grew up with me and, like me, were not adopted or taken to other families. I told them that I would always come back to visit them and I left the orphanage in my car.

In the car I looked at all those papers that confirmed the dean's words. I was about to despair knowing that I would die so soon while I was still on the rise but the words of former caregiver Luiz came to mind.

" (...) there's no reason to keep complaining. There is no tree that lives forever nor river that never runs dry. From dust we came and to dust we shall return so we must live as if the present were always a gift given by heaven. Don't forget young man, become the greatest champion this world has ever seen (...)"

I looked up at the top of the car, opened the panoramic roof and allowed myself a glimpse of the stars. I was missing the late caregiver Luiz...

Time passed and I moved to the United States, where my career took off. After learning about my untimely death I already had nothing left to lose. My resilience was now monstrous and there was nothing else to shake me. I became a champion.

I won the belt in my category and had become a star who just came out of an orphanage and who never even heard of his mother or father by blood.

The years passed and I was twenty-six years old, at the height of my technical strength and experience. He had fought countless times and countless different fights. Boxing was my life.

One day at home, while sitting on the couch and watching an upcoming opponent fight, I started spitting blood from my mouth and fell to my knees on the carpet. My arms and legs started to get weak and I couldn't get up anymore and I fell flat on the carpet.

I just thought "so this is how I'm going to die? So much wealth and luxury will be thrown away " I then started to smile while complementing " this world is really unfair. I'm going to meet you Mr. Luiz... " My eyes closed and my breath was no longer in my nostrils. My pulses stopped responding and my heart no longer pumped blood...

(...) I had died.

It's dark and light, hot and cold, it's also haunting and comforting.

One, two, three, four... Two thousand, three thousand, four thousand, five thousand... I don't know how much time has passed. I see nothing and feel nothing; I expected an angel or a demon to come and welcome me to heaven or take me down to the depths of the abyss... But nothing happened.

Even though it may sound cliché, along the way I could see a reddish light that slowly became more latent, and my body no longer obeyed me: I don't even care anymore...