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<\/a>What a terminal diagnosis can teach us about life.<\/strong><\/h4>\nI once experienced my own death<\/a>\u2014or I at least imagined I did.<\/em> It happened many years ago, when I was in my 30s, and living in Houston. I had come down with a bad case of the flu and stayed home from work, which was a rarity for me. At the time, I was single and living in a small, sparsely furnished one-bedroom apartment.<\/p>\nOn this specific day, my symptoms began to worsen and, in a fever-induced haze, my mind began to venture down a dark trail. I imagined myself getting sicker and sicker until I reached the door of death\u2014and I then entered it. I envisioned the news reaching my parents, my sisters and brothers, my long-distance girlfriend. I felt their pain to the point tears began rolling down my cheeks and I broke out into a full sob.<\/p>\n
In a few minutes the crying stopped, and I realized something profound: I was okay with my own death<\/strong>. A kind of mysterious reassurance had come over me, the sense that death was not to be feared. It was the end of a chapter, but not the book that is my life. What happened after death? At the time, I couldn\u2019t tell you, though I think I have a better idea now.<\/p>\nMy perspective on death changed when I became a dad.<\/strong><\/h3>\nBefore I was married and my wife and I had a child, I can recall talking with a young mom I used to work with, a writer who also served as my first advertising<\/a> mentor. Her name was Rayna and she too had learned not to fear death\u2014though she pointedly told me all that changed when she had her first child.<\/p>\nAt the time, it was something I couldn\u2019t relate to. But of course, all that changes when you have a child of your own and your world is no longer just about you. Now that my daughter is in her mid-20s, I can tell you that feeling hasn\u2019t changed much. Is there ever a time you decide there\u2019s no more wisdom to pass along to your child?<\/p>\n
I started thinking about this when I read about Ben Sasse.<\/strong><\/h3>\nHave you ever heard of Sasse? He\u2019s a former Senator from Nebraska who went on to become president of the University of Florida. He\u2019s 54 years old and he\u2019s dying of cancer<\/strong>. Stage 4 pancreatic cancer that has invaded other parts of his body. Despite brutally intense treatments at two of the nation\u2019s top hospitals, he <\/strong>has, at best, a few months to live<\/strong>.<\/p>\nBen Sasse is a man of character<\/a>. I recall him being one of the first Republicans to question the integrity of the man who again sits in the White House. He is also deeply religious. Sasse was recently interviewed by the New York Times<\/em> and I thought his ideas were worth repeating. Starting with this take on his situation:<\/p>\n\nDeath is terrible. We should never sugarcoat it. It is not how things are meant to be. But it is great that death can be called the final enemy. It\u2019s an enemy, but it\u2019s a final enemy, and there will then be no more tears. I believe in the Resurrection, and I believe in a restoration of this world. So, I did not feel great fear about my death.\u00a0<\/em><\/p>\n<\/blockquote>\nIn that last sentence, you\u2019ll note that Sasse said he \u201cdid not\u201d feel fear about his death (past tense), instead of \u201cdo not\u201d feel fear (present tense). It\u2019s apparent he has already internalized his impending demise, dealt with it mentally and spiritually<\/a>. When asked if he would have done anything differently in his life, he shared these thoughts:<\/p>\n\n- \u201cI would treat Sabbaths differently \u2014 and especially digital intrusions into the Sabbath.\u201d<\/li>\n
- \u201cDinnertime is precious. Man, lock up your devices and keep them away from the table and prioritize that time.\u201d<\/li>\n
- \u201cThere is a limit to how many (work) trips a month are really worth it. I lived a road warrior life for a long time. I took way, way, way, way too many trips.\u201d<\/li>\n<\/ul>\n
He wishes he had prioritized his life better, spent more time with his family, though he\u2019s addressing that now. He says he feels \u201ca real heaviness\u201d about leaving his children who are 14, 22, and 24. He regrets he will likely not be able to walk his two daughters down the aisle when they marry. And despite it all, his head is in a good place. In his words:<\/p>\n
\nI\u2019ve continued to feel a peace about the fact that death is something that we should hate. We should call it a wicked thief. And yet, it\u2019s pretty good that you pass through the veil of tears one time and then there will be no more tears, there will be no more cancer.<\/em><\/p>\n<\/blockquote>\nHe is thankful that he gets to \u201crepent every day of both my sins of omission and commission.\u201d He actually sees the suffering<\/a> he endures daily as a benefit. It \u201cremoves the unimportant, so only the important things and people are left\u2026and I\u2019m grateful for it.\u201d<\/p>\nAnother story about death at a relatively young age.<\/strong><\/h3>\nSeveral months ago, The New York Times<\/em> told the tale of a different public figure facing imminent death<\/a>. A reporter interviewed the writer Jonathan Clements, 61 years of age, who for almost two decades wrote a personal finance column for The Wall Street Journal<\/em>. He later founded the financial website Humble Dollar<\/em>. As told in The Times:<\/p>\n\nIn May, he saw a doctor about some balance issues. Two days later, he received a cancer diagnosis.\u00a0 Scans revealed a golf-ball-size tumor on his lung, and the disease has spread to his brain, his liver and elsewhere. He has no more than 12 months left to live.<\/em><\/p>\n<\/blockquote>\nOnly he didn\u2019t have 12 months left. Clements, who was battling a rare form of terminal lung cancer, died last September at the age of 62. He survived a little over three months after I read his story. He was married, had two children, and spent his final months \u201cdecluttering\u201d his financial life\u2014closing credit cards, consolidating bank accounts, simplifying his investments so his wife and children wouldn\u2019t be burdened.<\/p>\n
He wrote a final post titled \u201cFarewell Friends<\/a>\u201d which was published just after his death.\u00a0In it, he asked his readers not to be sad, stating: \u201cI\u2019ve had a life filled with love, great experiences and wonderful career opportunities. Despite my demise at a relatively young age, I consider myself beyond fortunate.\u201d He closed the column with these words:<\/p>\n\nI faced the final months not with sorrow, but with great\u00a0<\/em>gratitude<\/em>. I had spent almost my entire adult life doing what I love and surrounded by those that I love. Who could ask for more?<\/em><\/p>\n<\/blockquote>\nSometimes nearing death offers us important lessons about life.<\/strong><\/h3>\nClements and Sasse remind us that while death may be a \u201cwicked thief,\u201d it is also a powerful clarifier when it comes to life. It strips away the intrusions, the distractions<\/a>, the unnecessary, leaving behind only the precious and beautiful essentials of life: faith, family, and the time we have left to tend to those in our circle.<\/p>\n
On this specific day, my symptoms began to worsen and, in a fever-induced haze, my mind began to venture down a dark trail. I imagined myself getting sicker and sicker until I reached the door of death\u2014and I then entered it. I envisioned the news reaching my parents, my sisters and brothers, my long-distance girlfriend. I felt their pain to the point tears began rolling down my cheeks and I broke out into a full sob.<\/p>\n
In a few minutes the crying stopped, and I realized something profound: I was okay with my own death<\/strong>. A kind of mysterious reassurance had come over me, the sense that death was not to be feared. It was the end of a chapter, but not the book that is my life. What happened after death? At the time, I couldn\u2019t tell you, though I think I have a better idea now.<\/p>\n Before I was married and my wife and I had a child, I can recall talking with a young mom I used to work with, a writer who also served as my first advertising<\/a> mentor. Her name was Rayna and she too had learned not to fear death\u2014though she pointedly told me all that changed when she had her first child.<\/p>\n At the time, it was something I couldn\u2019t relate to. But of course, all that changes when you have a child of your own and your world is no longer just about you. Now that my daughter is in her mid-20s, I can tell you that feeling hasn\u2019t changed much. Is there ever a time you decide there\u2019s no more wisdom to pass along to your child?<\/p>\n Have you ever heard of Sasse? He\u2019s a former Senator from Nebraska who went on to become president of the University of Florida. He\u2019s 54 years old and he\u2019s dying of cancer<\/strong>. Stage 4 pancreatic cancer that has invaded other parts of his body. Despite brutally intense treatments at two of the nation\u2019s top hospitals, he <\/strong>has, at best, a few months to live<\/strong>.<\/p>\n Ben Sasse is a man of character<\/a>. I recall him being one of the first Republicans to question the integrity of the man who again sits in the White House. He is also deeply religious. Sasse was recently interviewed by the New York Times<\/em> and I thought his ideas were worth repeating. Starting with this take on his situation:<\/p>\n Death is terrible. We should never sugarcoat it. It is not how things are meant to be. But it is great that death can be called the final enemy. It\u2019s an enemy, but it\u2019s a final enemy, and there will then be no more tears. I believe in the Resurrection, and I believe in a restoration of this world. So, I did not feel great fear about my death.\u00a0<\/em><\/p>\n<\/blockquote>\n In that last sentence, you\u2019ll note that Sasse said he \u201cdid not\u201d feel fear about his death (past tense), instead of \u201cdo not\u201d feel fear (present tense). It\u2019s apparent he has already internalized his impending demise, dealt with it mentally and spiritually<\/a>. When asked if he would have done anything differently in his life, he shared these thoughts:<\/p>\n He wishes he had prioritized his life better, spent more time with his family, though he\u2019s addressing that now. He says he feels \u201ca real heaviness\u201d about leaving his children who are 14, 22, and 24. He regrets he will likely not be able to walk his two daughters down the aisle when they marry. And despite it all, his head is in a good place. In his words:<\/p>\n I\u2019ve continued to feel a peace about the fact that death is something that we should hate. We should call it a wicked thief. And yet, it\u2019s pretty good that you pass through the veil of tears one time and then there will be no more tears, there will be no more cancer.<\/em><\/p>\n<\/blockquote>\n He is thankful that he gets to \u201crepent every day of both my sins of omission and commission.\u201d He actually sees the suffering<\/a> he endures daily as a benefit. It \u201cremoves the unimportant, so only the important things and people are left\u2026and I\u2019m grateful for it.\u201d<\/p>\n Several months ago, The New York Times<\/em> told the tale of a different public figure facing imminent death<\/a>. A reporter interviewed the writer Jonathan Clements, 61 years of age, who for almost two decades wrote a personal finance column for The Wall Street Journal<\/em>. He later founded the financial website Humble Dollar<\/em>. As told in The Times:<\/p>\n In May, he saw a doctor about some balance issues. Two days later, he received a cancer diagnosis.\u00a0 Scans revealed a golf-ball-size tumor on his lung, and the disease has spread to his brain, his liver and elsewhere. He has no more than 12 months left to live.<\/em><\/p>\n<\/blockquote>\n Only he didn\u2019t have 12 months left. Clements, who was battling a rare form of terminal lung cancer, died last September at the age of 62. He survived a little over three months after I read his story. He was married, had two children, and spent his final months \u201cdecluttering\u201d his financial life\u2014closing credit cards, consolidating bank accounts, simplifying his investments so his wife and children wouldn\u2019t be burdened.<\/p>\n He wrote a final post titled \u201cFarewell Friends<\/a>\u201d which was published just after his death.\u00a0In it, he asked his readers not to be sad, stating: \u201cI\u2019ve had a life filled with love, great experiences and wonderful career opportunities. Despite my demise at a relatively young age, I consider myself beyond fortunate.\u201d He closed the column with these words:<\/p>\n I faced the final months not with sorrow, but with great\u00a0<\/em>gratitude<\/em>. I had spent almost my entire adult life doing what I love and surrounded by those that I love. Who could ask for more?<\/em><\/p>\n<\/blockquote>\n Clements and Sasse remind us that while death may be a \u201cwicked thief,\u201d it is also a powerful clarifier when it comes to life. It strips away the intrusions, the distractions<\/a>, the unnecessary, leaving behind only the precious and beautiful essentials of life: faith, family, and the time we have left to tend to those in our circle.<\/p>\nMy perspective on death changed when I became a dad.<\/strong><\/h3>\n
I started thinking about this when I read about Ben Sasse.<\/strong><\/h3>\n
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Another story about death at a relatively young age.<\/strong><\/h3>\n
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Sometimes nearing death offers us important lessons about life.<\/strong><\/h3>\n