I so appreciate still being alive—it seems everyday pieces of life’s puzzle come together and start to make sense—death, to name one.

A friend was given a healthy report at her December 28th physical exam, and on the day of this writing, 2-20-23, less than two months later, she has stage four cancer and in-home health, palliative, and hospice care. She chose not to have surgery or chemotherapy.

This morning’s news showed a short clip on President Jimmy Carter. He is in hospice at home with his wife of 76 years, Rosalynn, by his side. A woman from Plains, Georgia, Carter’s hometown, was asked, “What does Jimmy Carter mean to you?” She paused and, with contemplation, slowly said, “He’s that example that the Bible talks about.” Someone described him as “Grace and grit,” and another as “A neighbor, just Jimmy.” All three were such great compliments.

Those of us with the privilege of living into the last phase of life know loss too well. It seems death is a good thing for those who die and painful for those of us left in a house with an empty chair at every turn. We can prepare for death and make it easier for those we value and love. It must not be a secret–we are not in this alone.

One thing I know for sure, we are all going to die, and we need more honest conversations about our plans and fear. My friend knew long before the diagnosis that she wanted to die at home. She made difficult medical decisions easy for her kids by signing a do-not-resuscitate order (DNR) and has a will clearly outlining how to disperse her assets. She also shared the details with her kids, and now that her time is close, she is at peace because everyone has had time to prepare, and they’re moving forward together. She’s even made arrangements for her beloved dog.

I have also done everything; I even designed and purchased my tombstone. I speak of my death with a neutral tone—it is, after all, normal, and I want my family and friends to see my life as the incredible experience it is and not as the tragic ending.

Like my friend and our former president, I’ve done what I can to permit smiles as they pop champagne and share memories of my successes, failures, and oops.

If I’ve learned anything from inevitable death, I must maintain a sense of urgency—communicate, plan, prepare, and then live the heck out of what’s left.

With my death, I envision initial tears followed by happy times of sharing memories with laughter and hugs. How about you?

Until the next time: Live while you live.

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