Matthew Porter's memory from Peter Nicastro
A Gift and a Blessing
In 2014, I was diagnosed with multiple sclerosis. Pete Nicastro was one of the first people I told. I called him on a Saturday afternoon, the day after my diagnosis, while he was driving with his wife and twins. I shared the news: thirty eight lesions on my brain and spine. MS at thirty seven years old.
When I finished, Pete simply said, "Okay. Is there anything else?" I said no. He replied, "Okay. Well, I'll catch you later," and hung up.
A day or two later, Pete did something unusual. He invited me to dinner, just the two of us. This wasn't typical. We'd shared meals before, but usually by circumstance. This was intentional. Deliberate.
I arrived at the restaurant to find Pete already seated. As I approached the table, he started clapping. I was confused. There were no televisions on, no obvious reason to celebrate anything. Pete looked at me and spoke words I have carried every single day since:
"Congratulations. Your life isn't what you thought it was going to be. You better go figure out what you want it to be."
Then he continued. "Matthew, you're going to have good days, and you're going to have bad days. That's what it is. I don't care. Your wife doesn't care. God doesn't care."
He paused. "I'm not supposed to be here. You weren't supposed to meet me."
Pete had been diagnosed with cystic fibrosis as a child. The average life expectancy was thirteen. He was nineteen when we met. Yet here he was, living a full life, choosing to show up for his friends.
"But no one cares, Matthew," he said. "Today is a gift. Today is a blessing. I'm not supposed to be here."
Then came the words that have anchored me through every difficult moment since:
"The moment you think, 'Why me? Why any of this?' and you rack up too many of those days in a row, then we're done. This friendship is over."
Today would have been Pete's fifty first birthday. The man who had the motto "Do Better Today." told me exactly that. It has shaped how I face every single day. His words have been my north star through the weight of this disease. I would not be where I am today without him.
Because at the end, Pete was telling me something simple: I needed to do better today. And those words have been telling me to do better today, every day, ever since.
