Emotions surrounding death and bereavement
Very few things in our life get our attention as the unexpected news of someone’s death. It strikes harder if the deceased was a family member or a close friend, but sometimes even news of the passing of a former colleague, or a distant acquaintance can leave us shaken.
We go through the motions – offer condolences, send flowers or call to express sympathy – yet we feel inadequate and empty. As we grow older, the gnawing feeling of discontent that we readily dismissed in our younger years, continues to linger. We become extra sensitive and feel everything more intensely.
I went through this phase a few months ago as waves of depressing news of the untimely deaths of several people in our circle washed over us. While we had met some of them in our social circle in Singapore, others were located elsewhere, but in each case, I felt a personal blow. And as is my tendency, I turned towards books to help me make sense not just of the world but also my own emotions.
Life is finite
When Breath Becomes Air, is a moving memoir by Paul Kalanithi, a brilliant neurosurgeon on the threshold of embarking on the glorious career who was diagnosed with cancer. Death spares no one, not even the gifted doctor who exquisitely chronicled his life even as he fought to stay alive knowing that he would be unable to experience the promised wonderful life he had worked so hard for.
These words from the book stayed with me long after I set it down.
“The way forward would seem obvious, if only I knew how many months or years I had left. Tell me three months, I’d spend time with my family. Tell me one year, I’d write a book. Give me ten years, I’d get back to treating diseases. The truth that you live one day at a time didn’t help: What was I supposed to do with that day?”
The finite nature of our time on earth is brought into sharp focus in the context of death yet it does not provide clarity on what to do with the share allocated to us.
Making the best of life
In Four Thousand Weeks – Time Management for Mortals author Oliver Burkeman offers a different way to think about life. By the time you are eighty years old, you would have lived for about 4000 weeks – seems like a lot?
Not really.
Try subtracting your age from 80 and figure out the number of weeks (or weekends) left.
Surprised?
I was.
The problem with counting down to a probable number of weeks seems morbid. It might make you step on the accelerator while trying to be everywhere and do everything all at once or might make you give up right away.
Once we understand that getting everything done on our to-do list is a myth, it is strangely liberating. No matter how efficient we are, there will always be more things that we will miss out on. Fear of missing out (FOMO) is real. And it can help us learn how to prioritize.
In spite of making deliberate choices, much of our life is still marked with regret – for the things we ‘should’ have done.
Are regrets worth looking into or is it better to shelve them altogether?
Moving forward
One book that tackles this question is The Power Of Regret – How Looking Backward Moves Us Forward by Daniel Pink.
After inviting people to take a short three-minute survey to share a major regret of their life, Pink classified regrets into four categories – foundation, moral, connection, and boldness.
Interestingly, most people regretted the things they did not do, as compared to the things they did, particularly as they aged. Why? Because for the things they did, they knew how it turned out but for the fork in the road that they did not take, there was always the question of ‘what-if’.
Regrets don’t always lead to debilitating feelings but they certainly can sting, and they have the potential to guide our future decisions.
What do I want to be remembered for?
While books had useful pointers, the event that provided me with the most clarity this year was the memorial I attended for someone I respected greatly.
The intimate gathering was attended by people who knew her in various capacities – as a teacher, a mother, a meditation guide, a reader, an artist, a lifelong learner. As people shared their memories, their words informed by the facet they were familiar with, what arose was a complex portrait of an interesting life filled with curiosity and courage.
How can I become an interesting person?
Every time I learn a new skill, I wonder if I might become an expert at it. But that’s the wrong way to look at it. What counts is that I tried. When I set out to do something new, I do not fit pieces into a predetermined puzzle. Instead, I am creating a life portrait with each choice. Not all attempts will become shining pinnacles but each piece matters. My life takes shape and derives meaning from each of these choices.
The best use of the weeks allotted to me is to do the things that are important to me in the phase of life that I am in within the range of choices available to me. For instance, while the glorious moment of having arrived may come to athletes only when they win medals, their true reward lies in their commitment, their perseverance, and the expertise that comes from their everyday practice.
And in life, all we can do is practice.
Don’t wait for a debilitating diagnosis or shocking news to motivate you into action. Actively choose how you want to spend the remaining days and weeks of this wonderful life.
All it takes is practice.