The Big Brother star is an example of how to live to the fullest in your waning days.
Part of the beauty of football, for a guy, is the lack of ambiguity. You go out and play as hard as you can until the whistle blows. Win, lose or draw, there are no do-overs. It's such an intense game that, unlike baseball, you're allowed to cry afterwards (whether you win or lose). You dig in as hard as you can for 60 (or 48 or 40) minutes and let your experience between the sidelines speak for itself, in essence, you leave it all on the field with no regrets*. For some folks, it's a metaphor for life**.
What does this have to do with relationships? Directly? Not much. Indirectly? Only everything. Unless you have Dr. Kevorkian or Miss Cleo in your Fave Five, you probably have no idea when the final whistle is going to blow. Therefore, the songwriters (and the bards, troubadours, beat poets, balladeers, minstrels, raconteurs, serenaders, crooners and charlatans) suggest living life full speed (love like you've never been hurt and whatnot). Easier said than done, claro.
But sometimes you do have a great idea of when the final curtain is going to drop and a chance to sprint to the finish. UK celebrity Jade Goody has such an opportunity. After revealing that her cancer was terminal, the TV star (and Big Brother mainstay) had a chance to tie up loose ends and finish up on a high note. This includes marrying boyf Jack Tweed (who, according to Fametastic, is by her side on the 24/7). She's also been able to take the opportunity to write goodbye notes for her children and other family members. While it's incredibly sad that a 27-year old has a carcinogenic death sentence, it's sort of wonderful that she has the chance to say, "thank you, govnah" and "I love ya, Jackie" a few last times.
Though his situation is far less advanced, Patrick Swayze and wife Lisa Neimi are trying to live it up as much as possible as these things are too unpredictable to take any sort of recovery for granted (or for granite).
The last thing about having a little advanced notice about judgment day is that everyone is really, really nice to you. Before the big C hit, Jade Goody was sort of a villain in the eyes of the UK press and The Swayze was mentioned largely derisively and as pop culture road kill (though every dude will watch Road House if it's on TBS, man law). I'm not saying that OK!'s memorial issue was anything less than tasteless, but it's got to be nice to get a little bit of the eugoogly business while you're still punching and kicking with your hands and your feet.
In summary, it appears I've gone soft in the head, weak in the knees and bleed-y in the heart, but the didactic, if there is such a thing, is to not waste too many opportunities to say nice things to the important people and try to leave it all on the field. The rest of us could get hit with a piece of Skylab any second and it would totally suck to have nothing but regrets about the things you didn't do, say or hear.
*Note: Of course this is a highly romanticized view of football; most of the time you're convinced you lost because of a missed call or wretched field conditions.
**Note: I don't feel football is a metaphor for life, my football salad days occurred on my third play from scrimmage, a 50-yd touchdown scramble as a seventh grader. Ideally, things did not peak for me as a 12-year old.
***Note: Do not watch the movies One Last Thing or PS: I Love You, they're too sad.