Class of 2010, I’d like to bring something to your attention: death. I know, I know; some of you are probably confused about it while others are well aware of its consequences. We all know it is part of life and I have even heard some say that we are simply “terminally ill.” However, one truth remains: death is inevitable.

I’d like to introduce you to my friend Kassandra Brianne Lee, or as I knew her, Kassie. She was 21 when she passed away on May 31. You’re probably expecting a story about a car crash, murder, binge drinking, overdose or a terminal illness. In some ways, I wish I had one of those stories for you.

Kassie was an responsible and perfectly healthy young woman with the brightest (did I mention brightest?) future ahead of her. By the ripe age of 21, Kassie had just graduated from Cal State Fresno, purchased her own home, had her own weekend radio show with her father and achieved accomplishments that would intimidate even the smartest of us.

I met Kassie as a member of my Masonic sorority, The International Order of Rainbow for Girls, where we instantly became close. She always wanted to hear me sing, and every time she saw me she would say, “Lauren, sing something for me!”

Kassie was also the Grand Worthy Advisor, or state president, of our sorority in 2007. After her term, Kassie and I shared time on our sorority’s leadership team together. Kassie was invaluable member, putting together elaborate “Jeopardy” boards, ironing hundreds of t-shirts and driving thousands of miles to attend each event.

I had even experienced loss with Kassie. My friend Fallan and I were staying at Kassie’s home while she was away. Unfortunately, Kassie’s dog dug its way out of her backyard and was struck by a car. Fallan and I were afraid of how Kassie would feel, but her reaction surprised us. When Kassie came home, we reminisced and laughed about her dog’s funny costumes and pictures. Even though she missed her dog, she knew Fallan and I would have done anything to save it.

It goes without saying that Kassie lived a wonderful life. However, the coroner believes her death was caused by a pulmonary embolism while she was asleep. Not only was it sudden, it occurred without the slightest warning. We were supposed to see each other the following weekend at the Leadership Team Retreat, and I’m still trying to shake the feeling that I’ll see her there.

Wikipedia, the Encyclopedia Britannica of our time, defines a pulmonary embolism as, “a blockage of the main artery of the lung or one of its branches by a substance that has traveled from elsewhere in the body through the bloodstream.” One of the symptoms includes sudden death.

If you died today, tonight or even tomorrow, will you leave the legacy you’d like to be remembered by, or are you constantly waiting for life to begin? Most of us claim that life starts after graduating, when we will get a better job, become wealthier or move out of our parents’ homes. This waiting is pointless; our lives don’t begin when we say they do.

Even at a young age, most of us think we’re invincible. Death typically doesn’t come near 21-year-olds, and certainly not out of the blue. However, Kassie’s death was a stark reminder to all of the lives she had touched (including mine) about how short our time is on this earth.

Class of 2010, your lives have already begun. For most of us, this was approximately 20-something years ago. It is unwise for us to think that we’ll have more than tomorrow, or that we will receive some sort of a do-over. Graduation doesn’t mark the beginning, but rather it is a blip on an otherwise complex life that will include only one true beginning and one true ending.

Kassie could not have done anything to prevent her own death, but she did do everything to live her life to the fullest. Her legacy touched the lives of hundreds, as witnessed by the over 250 of us that were together for her memorial. Kassie did not wait for her college graduation to find life’s calling; she took a page from Nike and just did it. I suppose in some ways that’s why she left this life early.

As her father, Bryan Lee, told me, “Live it like she would.”