We’re All Going to Die
Matthew Higgins, the chef at The Pitch on Butler, and longtime friend of bar owner Bryan Muha, is dying.
Every other Wednesday night, in Lawrenceville, I host an Open Mic at The Pitch for artists, poets, musicians and storytellers. Over the course of a year, I’ve developed friendships with the regulars and staff. Bryan served Matt his first beer when Matt turned 21. Now, at 33-years old, Matt grapples with mortality, and a timeline.
The End of Life
Originally diagnosed with a rare type of blood cancer called polycythemia vera, Higgins sought treatment. Polycythemia vera occurs when a mutation in a gene causes a problem with blood cell production; a genetic disorder that runs in Higgins’ family. “I had a poor reaction to one of the treatment plans and it mutated [into] leukemia. It's hard to pinpoint an exact time frame, but [doctors] say I might have one or two more healthy years left. Then it's pretty rapid downhill from there.”
I wonder, when you’re dying, how any time left is considered healthy.
Higgins’ body will deteriorate, beginning with his organs. He endures slight damage to his kidneys, lung damage from a pulmonary embolism, and recently suffered a mini stroke. “I try not to think about it too much to tell you the truth. I think [most] people die from secondary infections, or they enter a blast phase, where the body releases a ton of blast fills into the blood, and that… chokes everything else out.”
He doesn’t know what bodily sensations to expect as he nears the end; he’s gone over the generals with his doctors, who are largely experimental with his treatment at this point, but he hasn’t wanted to get too specific. He wants to be surprised by death. Can you be surprised if you know it’s coming?
Higgins doesn’t cling to any ideals about an afterlife. "I believe that anybody alive has no idea [what happens after death], and we'll never know until we die."
Before he was diagnosed with cancer, Matt was a Petty Officer Second Class in the United States Navy, serving 2010-2013. He’s trained for extreme survival conditions. After leaving the Navy, however, he describes a lifestyle many are familiar with, one of complacency. “…12 years going to the bar, working, going back to the bar, sleeping, and playing video games every day. … So now I'm just gonna do something completely different. That's been my dream.”
Matthew Higgins
A Death Pilgrimage
A death pilgrimage is a journey undertaken with the awareness of one's impending mortality, often serving as a means of reflection, while seeking to reconcile the spiritual, emotional, or psychological aspects of dying. Matt has always been called to nature, to the outdoors, and adventure that tests you physically and mentally. On Thursday, March 20, 2025, he embarked upon a mission to fulfill a long held dream—he is hiking The Appalachian Trail (A.T.), through one of the oldest mountain ranges in the world. There is no more time to be lost.
Higgins hopped a bus to Georgia to begin a 2,197-mile hike, destined for Bangor, Maine. He expects the journey to take anywhere from five to seven months, depending upon his health. He carries 35 pounds of gear, six days’ worth of food, and only two pairs of pants, a shirt, and sleepwear. He plans to replenish resources in town every four days, and connect with a friend halfway through for new clothes.
Resistance is futile.
Higgins experiences mood swings about his death; he rides a pendulum from acceptance to depression to curiosity. In addition to receiving cognitive rehab one a week, Higgins began a meditative practice through therapy at UPMC Hillman Cancer Center. He journals frequently to relieve his mind. A fan of tabletop RPG games, his greatest comfort on the trail may be his own storytelling; he is a skilled Dungeon Master. Rewriting personal accounts to make peace is a mental puzzle, and gamifying life experiences can ease the threat of rumination. Intrusive Thoughts—a card pulled; they are simply what his character is facing. As the observer and guide, Higgins is navigating the choices before him. He embraces the trail as a metaphor for life itself—a path fraught with challenges, beauty, and encounters with one's limitations and strengths. He tells me the first third of the hike is all physical, “Then the middle chunk is all psychological.”
According to The Appalachian Trail Conservancy, completing the entire 2,190+ miles of the A.T. in one trip is a mammoth undertaking. Each year, thousands of hikers attempt a thru-hike; only about one in four makes it all the way. There is no information as to how many thru-hikers attempt the trek, and survive, while their bodies are actively dying.
How will your death impact your life?
When you believe you have nothing more to lose, the threat of death can inspire change. Dreams discarded for reasons not remembered come back to life.
Matt and I have related in the pain of family estrangement and loss of companionship; when we first met, on July 7, 2024, his long term partnership was ending—‘til death not a promise made. I was struck by Matt’s grief; his vulnerability unapologetic. Death reminds us life is precious. There will be a last note of this beating heart. In his tear-filled eyes, I saw myself—the me I am when overcome by the wave of grief carrying reminders of my aunt’s unexpected death in 2019. They say she died instantly, which is not how Matt’s “supposed” to go. Surprise is still possible, and preferable to him.
As Higgins embraces dying, he focuses on the cycles of the natural world. “I believe things don't necessarily happen for a reason. They just happen. That's the nature of this universe, we're in a constant state of change, always. Change and decay. That is it.”
Who Higgins once was has already died; he had to give up an undying self. A dream reignited from loss is a win to me. By traversing the trail, Matt mirrors the universal quest for meaning amidst uncertainty, inviting us all to ponder our own paths and the end we ultimately face. “Maybe you just need to change your frame of reference. Like, most of my treatments were pretty unsuccessful, and there were a couple other directions I could have gone, that might have led to a little bit more success, but might have also really shortened things for me. And instead of looking at that as a death sentence, I have decided to choose what to do with the time I have left.”
Higgins plans to return to Pittsburgh. He doesn’t expect to die on this trail, but I get the impression he wouldn’t necessarily be upset if he did. If he becomes too sick to continue, he assured me he’s thought it through.
My aunt’s death inspired me to change my life; Matt’s own is doing the same to him. “Keep fighting.” Higgins imparts, “Never give up, even when things seem hopeless.”
If we live in the awareness we will die, all of life is a death pilgrimage; it’s simply how we play the game.
