How Will You Act On Your Deathbed?
I recently wrote about watching my dad die. How it changed me forever.
I’ll never forget holding his hand, crying with my mom and sister, and watching him spit up in one final gasp.
It has really helped my grieving process to write about the experience. So many of the comments I’ve received have been incredibly supportive, inspiring, and filled with love. It has been an incredible reminder of how great the community can be at Medium.
The comments also made me realize, however, that death is not discussed enough. While some may not have witnessed death in the raw like I recently did, many had stories to tell.
Losing a loved one. Losing a friend. Losing the chance to ever speak to someone again.
I noticed though that few people commented on their own mortality. For me, the only emotion that has rivaled grief after the loss of my dad is fear. That death may be around the corner, lurking in the shadows ready to strike.
It struck my dad out of nowhere. One day he was seemingly fine, the next he received a stage IV cancer diagnosis.
What would you do? How would you spend your final two years of life (or less)? And when the time comes, how will you act on your deathbed?
These were the questions I was asking myself in the weeks following my dad’s death. Prior to his passing, I didn’t pay much attention to death. I knew it was inevitable, but it never seemed immediate.
Now I think it could come any second or day.
Before I could formulate my answer to the deathbed question, I recalled how other people acted.
Many people have died throughout history
One of my favorite stories of death is of former U.S. President, Ulysses S. Grant. He was penniless, bankrupt, and terribly ill. His family was at risk of being left with nothing after Grant lost his family’s savings in a Ponzi Scheme.
What did Grant do through the pain?
He wrote. He cranked out his Memoirs in his dying days. And it sold. Very well.
Here’s what I wrote about his Memoirs a few years ago:
“Written in a simple and straightforward style, similar to the way he lived, his Memoirs stand as some of the best writing in the history of the English language (Mark Twain, who published them, would tell you so himself).”
Perhaps a certain amount of pain and appreciation for the finite nature of life is required to fully express oneself.
Although Karl Marx apparently said when asked if he had any last words: “Last words are for fools who haven’t said enough.”
My dad said plenty. All on his own terms. And by saying, what I really mean is doing.
When he was told he had two years (at best) left of life, he chose to work the entire time.
The whole family encouraged him to quit. He never did. My dad even asked to review some financial reports while laying in his hospital bed unable to move.
It was not my preferred way for him to live his final days, but the choice was his. I had to respect it. His job gave him purpose and joy. It helped him cope with a terrible disease and some of the worst treatment side effects imaginable.
We were able to enjoy two more years with my dad because he was willing to fight.
It was with that in mind that I contemplated my own demise.
How I will (probably) act on my deathbed
It’s impossible to know for sure. And for some, they’re lucky to even get there. Accidents and other tragedies can take the best of us long before they even reach my dad’s relatively young age of 65.
But if I am fortunate enough to live a life that reaches “old age”, and I find myself on my deathbed, then I plan to do one thing.
Write.
It’s what I did before I got married. It’s what I did when my son was born. And it’s what I did after my dad died.
Whatever I write will probably not turn into the masterpiece that Grant penned. I am unlikely to become President, after all.
What it will become though is a final testament of my thoughts. A vehicle for expressing and figuring out one of the most complex moments in life: death.
Instead of shying away from the topic, it’s my hope that more people will embrace it. Discuss it. Ponder it.
For the more we prepare for and respect death, the better we will live.
Death teaches us about life
When we truly appreciate that death can arrive at any time, we cherish time more. We focus on what we want to do instead of what we have to do. We might even take more risks to achieve what we want.
I quit my job shortly after my dad was diagnosed. I became a stay-at-home dad. It was tough initially, but I knew I would never be able to relive all of the moments I have since shared with my son.
In addition to living every day to the fullest, death has taught me to document my life more. Whether that’s journaling, taking more pictures, or shooting more videos, I’ve realized I need to do a better job recording everything.
It’s the main reason I started a YouTube Channel. Not necessarily to make money, but to remember great moments. To share those stories with the world.
I may not be a daily vlogger like Casey Neistat once was, and I certainly may not be rivaling the writing prowess of Grant’s Memoirs, but I’ve realized I’m happiest when I’m around people I love and when I’m creating.
Death forces you to hone in on what you value most.
So I encourage you to engage in that exercise. How will you act on your deathbed? What will you do? Who will you want with you?
Perhaps you’ll come to the realization I did: that through contemplating death, we’re truly contemplating the rest of our lives.
0 Comments