Sarah Taffet-Isaza was a perfectly healthy 21-year-old girl when she collapsed during a college softball game in Newark, New Jersey. A tag from the opposing team’s first baseman sent her into commotio cordis — cardiac arrest brought on by a sudden impact to the heart at a specific moment of its rhythm. She would have been dead in minutes if a trainer had not come to the rescue with an automated external defibrillator (AED).

We were the only team out of six at the tournament that had a trainer and AED on standby. An AED is a portable device that analyzes heart rhythm and applies electric shocks to stabilize it. In any case of commotio cordis, the survival rate falls by ten percent for every one minute without shockage from an AED. Sarah was on the ground for about 70 seconds before our athletic trainer delivered the first jolt. By then, her chance to live was less than 50%.  

Sarah is one of my teammates on the Fordham softball team. She is also one of my roommates and best friends. You never think something like this can happen until it happens to someone you love. And when it does, it can be core-shaking. 

Now let me be clear. I’m not here to tell Sarah’s story, because it’s hers. I’m sure she will process, heal and grow from her experience in her own way. I just want to share what I’ve learned in these past few weeks after witnessing my friend go through all this. 

There’s a sort of collateral beauty in tragedies that turn into miracles. They give you a perspective on gratitude that we often neglect until it’s too late. When Sarah first went down, the first thing I thought of wasn’t “oh no, there goes our shortstop.” It was how much I loved her. Every inside joke, memory and heart-to-heart conversation from the past four years flashed through my mind in a panicked montage. I found myself begging God to keep her safe and making desperate, divine promises that I’d never take my friends for granted again.

The next day, even after we knew she was okay, our team spoke only with overwhelming love about her and one another. Even though it wasn’t always articulated out loud, that love has always existed. It just took a whole lot of darkness to remind us of the light. 

When was the last time you told someone important in your life you love them, or that you appreciate them? My advice to you is don’t wait. Reaching out is free, easy and more impactful than you think. 

Gratitude is underrated and tomorrow is never promised.