I've never met Miles Levin. But his story, and the story of how he and his family are facing inevitable heartbreak with unflinching courage and honesty, has changed my otherwise carefree summer, and perhaps my life.

Miles is a brilliant, talented writer and fun-loving 18-year-old who just graduated from an elite high school in Michigan. By all accounts, the rest of his life should be spread out before him like the pages in an empty book, a success story just waiting to be written.

But Miles' life is nearing his last chapter. He has rhabdomyosarcoma, a soft tissue cancer that commonly strikes children. After receiving the diagnosis two years ago, Miles has juggled high school, friends, a girlfriend, his family, teenage hi-jinks and a popular blog with a punishing regimen of chemotherapy.

Now he has run out of treatment options. He is 18 years old and he is dying. But he continues to inspire thousands of people across the world with updates posted on his Web site, (www.carepages.com, go to the "levinstory" page). He should be angry, and rightly so. He should be sad that he won't be able to go to college with his friends in the fall, that he won't be able to fall in love and get married, to do so many things that we just take for granted. Instead of being angry, he's savoring every day, every minute he has remaining. And doling out some amazing philosophical thoughts along the way.

I first read about Miles on CNN.com, which saw his story in a local newspaper. (As a side note, this is how broadcast "journalists" often "find" their stories: by lifting them from local newspapers. But I digress.) I became a daily visitor to his CarePage, reading all the way back to the initial diagnosis. He's given me deep thoughts to ponder during my otherwise relaxing summer, and my family has been reaping the benefits. His posts have made me realize just how fortunate I am, how thankful I should be for what I have.

McKenna and I discovering a newly hatched robin's egg in the grass. Patrick and I sharing popcorn together on the couch while watching "Talladega Nights." Cuddling and sharing stories with McKenna after her nap, when she is languid and smiley and sleepy. Stealing a few moments in the sun, reading a book. Special, ordinary moments now define my days.

It's enough for Miles that he has touched the lives of so many people. "I have come to believe," he muses, "that God put me on earth to get Stage IV alveolar rhabdomyosarcoma. Why? So that I could show the world how to have Stage IV alveolar rhabdomyosarcoma - or rather how to handle what is close to the worst thing that could possibly happen to me with as much strength and grace as I could manage."

But, as he's been taken to saying lately, it's so NOT what I want.

It's so NOT what I want either, Miles.

Soon he will die, and thousands of his extended "family" members around the globe will be heartbroken. But they will also have learned to savor the beauty of a child's smile, the gust of a warm summer breeze, the sweet-tangy explosion of a ripe blueberry in the mouth.

And Miles will live on, inspiring others to relish every day they're given.

An eternal success story.

Dana Rae Laverty, thankfully, has never been a broadcast television "journalist." You can reach her at danarae14@hotmail.com.