I don't have any grandparents (except for one really funky step-grandmother). Two thirds of them died before I was born, and the last died when I was in school. Cancer ... a real problem in our family. Grandpa Ken was the last to go. I remember vividly his journey - fraught with pneumonia every winter, prostate cancer was eventually the killer. I remember many visits to the hospital thinking that this visit was the last and he'd be gone soon. I remember how he stuck on to his life. As a resolute accountant and ex-British soldier, he hung on. And he hung on. It was painful. There were times we had wished he would just let go, and rest.

Standing at his deathbed, I had remarked to my mom how much Grandpa Ken had held on. She reflected on how different the story was with her mom (his wife), and how quickly and easily she had journeyed to her final rest. She said, "It's like she knew where she was going, and that made it easier to go. But it seems Grandpa Ken doesn't have the same assurance".

This memory surfaced today as I listened to Redi Direko talk about Baby Amillia who is the fourth smallest baby and earliest surviving premature baby. Born 21 Weeks and 6 days after conception she has been dubbed a miracle baby. The conversation thread moved towards how the limit for "viable" births is set at 23 weeks. Born before this time, doctors are apparently not allowed to resuscitate the baby. Amillia slipped by because her mother had lied about how many weeks pregnant she was as she went into labour.

Thanks to modern medical techniques, Amillia was born and is doing well. Medical ethicists are now challenging the profession in terms of where the line is drawn between attempting to save a baby like this, and not doing so. One caller aptly said, "It is a very thin line." The dominant thread was that we should do our best to give such a baby the best opportunity for life as possible.

The conversation sparked some thinking around why fighting for life (as in this instance) is such a strong drive within us? Instinctual arguments aside (I happen to agree with them), I wonder if there might be an element of uncertainty about where these babies have come from, and where they might end up if we let them die. Then, applying it more generally, there is a strong desire for humanity to hold on to life. This is a noble value.

But I do wonder if the strength of this value has some roots in our general uncertainty as to what exists before and after life on earth. The story of Grandpa Ken is a great example. His wife felt assured she knew where she was going after she passed on. It seems he wasn't so sure.

Could it be that we fight so strongly for life because we believe that our time on earth is all there is to "life". If this is the underlying belief, then it makes perfect sense why we should fight ferociously for survival in any instance - because the assumption is that this is the only chance you have. There is then no "life" before birth, and nothing after death.

What is your stance within the story of your life, and how does this belief influence the way you craft and live your own story?