Tag Archives: death

What Is There To Fear?

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Do you ever notice that people who have near death experiences seem to have a new lease on life? It makes me think that the fear around death is misguided. We shouldn’t fear death nearly as much as we should fear not living. Death is inevitable. And while I personally hope it is still quite distant, it really isn’t avoidable. What is avoidable is not really living. 

Not really living can be quite cliche. It’s living to work, not working to live; It’s counting the days to the weekend, your next vacation, or retirement; It’s eating for sustenance without enjoyment; It’s counting the minutes rather than spending them; It’s fearing to chase your dream; Wishing, but not doing; watching rather than participating; Wondering where the time went and lamenting; Hoping for different results, but not doing anything to get them. 

What is there to fear? It’s not death, it’s just not really living… which is something you always have control over. And if you take control, well then there really isn’t much to fear, is there? 

 

Nuggets of happiness

My dad passed away last week. Today we did the paperwork at the crematorium, and we’ll do a family gathering in the fall. He had a stroke while I was visiting over the March break and he never left the hospital after that.

While at the hospital, my youngest sister was staying with dad late one night and she was feeling hungry. She said to him, “I’m heading down to Tim Hortons, do you want anything?”

My dad responded, “No thanks, are you going to get some nuggets of happiness?”

Puzzled, my sister asked, “Do you mean Timbits?

Dad smiled and nodded ‘Yes’.

Nuggets of happiness. This is a great metaphor for coping with my father’s death. There are a lot of emotions, and a lot to deal with. There is great sadness. But then there are also those moments of fond, joyful, and humorous times that I’ll enjoy remembering. Little nuggets to love. Little nuggets that remind me he is still with me as long as I choose to remember.

I don’t think I’ll ever eat a Timbit again without remembering my dad.

And while there are many other emotions right now, I know the memories I cherish, the memories I will share with my mother, my siblings, my wife, my kids, and even grandkids in the future, will bring me joy and happiness.

2 minutes of silent sunrise

Today is my first day without a father on this planet. I’m glad I got to see him in March because he died 15 minutes before I got on my flight to Toronto. Here’s a beautiful sunrise I got to see on the flight.

I’m m with my family now, although just one sister is awake. It will be good to spend a bit of time with my mom and sisters.

Enjoy the sunrise, appreciate what you’ve got, hug your family.

One day closer

I am listening to a podcast by Sam Harris titled The Paradox of Death. Paraphrasing him, he says, ‘One thing you can be certain of is that today you are one day closer to death than you were yesterday’. He goes on to say that you can be totally depressed about that thought, or you can turn it around and realize how valuable every moment is.

There is so much we have to be thankful for. So many people we value and appreciate. Do we share (enough) time with them? Do we tell them they are appreciated? Do we worry too much about things that probably won’t ever happen? Do we appreciate the time we have left?

If I were only going to live for 50 more minutes, would the people I leave behind know what I thought of them? If I was going to live for only 50 more days, who would I spend my time with, and why am I not making more of an effort now? And if I lived for 50 more years, would I want to look back and see a life of gratitude or a life of unfilled and unfulfilled moments?

We are all one day closer. We all have the opportunity to cherish the time we have… or squander it.

When I’m gone

I’m away visiting my parents and had a little getaway planned to meet a buddy and go fishing. Unfortunately one of my uncles passed away from cancer (we knew it was coming), and that changed the plans.

The friend I was meeting replied to my cancellation news saying, “No problem family comes before fishing. Hope we can do it next year if you come down. Talk soon, take care.”

He’s a good enough friend that nothing more needed to be said.

My uncles service, outdoors, at the graveyard, was quaint, and a wonderful tribute to a kind, caring, and unassuming man, who put family above all else. He was given a year and a half to live 3 years ago, and I think it was a relief to both him and the people who cared for him that the suffering that was particularly bad for the last month had ended.

The burial confirmed in my mind that I want to be cremated after I die. I have no desire to hold onto any real estate after I am gone. It sounds crass but I would rather be flushed down the toilet than buried in a plot that takes up space on this planet, when I have no practical use for that space.

I heard once that one of the reasons Disney Land and Disney World check your bag when you enter their theme parks is to check for ashes. People want to have their ashes spread on ‘The happiest place on earth” so frequently that it is an actual concern for them.

We see dead animals all the time. Parts of them are in our freezers, they show up as roadkill, our pets die. When they are gone, it is just their meat and bones that remain, the animal that was ‘is’ no longer around. The same applies to us. It’s funny, I used to think, “Spread my ashes in the ocean… but make sure it’s a warm ocean because I hate the cold.” Now I realize how silly that is. When I’m gone, I’m gone, and what happens to my powdery remains is something I don’t care about.

What I do care about is the life that I have, and people I love, and the things I hope to do before I’m gone.