No such thing as an expected death

Death is always a shock. It jolts everybody it touches. No matter how predictable the death might have been – an elderly grand-parent who has been fading for months, an uncle with advanced cancer, an old friend with severe heart problems – those left behind are always shocked. Medical professionals and police forces make the distinction between ‘expected’ and ‘unexpected’ death. But to those left behind, death is never expected. 

This applies even more to our own lives. We can conceptualise our aging and death, but none of us deeply believe it. We understand it logically but not emotionally. And because of this we are doomed to let our life pass us by without relishing every moment of it. We even talk about killing time, not comprehending how limited our time is.

How would you live if this were your last week of life? Or your last month? Or year? This thought experiment is absurd: it allows no planning for the future that we hope is to come.  However if your response is “sell the house, move to Vegas, and spend everything on booze, gambling, and hookers”, then something is profoundly wrong with the way you currently live.

More useful: if this were the last interaction I’d ever have with this person, how would I want it to be? Fuller of praise, and emptier of criticism.

You would tell your parents that you love them. You’d tell your friend how much they mean to you.  Arguing with your sibling, you would be the first to apologise. You wouldn’t let yourself be riled by somebody spilling your drink or tailgating you in traffic or being unhelpful on the phone.

What we need is a wristwatch that counts down the days until we die. Failing that we can only live with an awareness of death. We will die. Everyone we love will die. Everyone we hate will die.  And if you think that’s morbid then it’s a sign that you’re probably wasting your life. Grow up, wake up: living is beautiful and rich only because it is transitory. Don’t waste time.