Editor’s Note: This is a guest post from John P. Weiss.
My wife Nicole knows a great deal about death.
She’s a hospice nurse who provides care and comfort for those nearing the end of life’s journey. She also helps loved ones navigate a constellation of mixed feelings, from fear and confusion to acceptance and even relief.
Nicole took time away from work when her grandmother’s cancer, after years of successful management, finally unleashed its fatal agenda. And then Nicole’s grandfather fell ill with lung cancer. Again, she stepped in to provide end-of-life care.
Nicole tells me that in those final moments for patients and their loved ones, conversations are about love, memories, sometimes regrets, and heartfelt goodbyes. There is no talk about bigger houses, fancy cars, the latest tech gear, and all the other stuff people eventually pour into their garages and storage units.
Death is a profound teacher, but no one wants to enroll in the class.
We spend our lives pursuing money and possessions, only to discover late in the game that relationships, experiences, and passions best feed our souls. If only we figured out sooner what really matters.
If only we learned early on that a good death demands a good life.
We are not going gently into that good night
Columbia University physician Lydia S. Dugdale is a specialist in medical ethics and the treatment of older patients. Dugdale’s book, “The Lost Art of Dying: Reviving Forgotten Wisdom,” argues that far too many of us die poorly.
Dr. Dugdale’s book was inspired by an ancient text, written in the Middle Ages after the Black Plague. The text, known as Ars moriendi — The Art of Dying, inspires the view that to die well requires first that we live well.
A review of Dr. Dugdale’s book in BookBrowse.com notes:
“Our culture has overly medicalized death: dying is often institutional and sterile, prolonged by unnecessary resuscitations and other intrusive interventions. We are not going gently into that good night — our reliance on modern medicine can actually prolong suffering and strip us of our dignity. Yet our lives do not have to end this way.”
Part of the problem is that we don’t want to think about death, so we don’t plan and prepare. We put off creating trusts, living wills, and end-of-life health directives.
Even worse, our refusal to ponder and face mortality prevents us from living our best lives. We place too much importance on money, status, and possessions over our health, relationships, and serving others.
This is where minimalism and simplicity can help. By simplifying our lives and shedding the things we don’t need, we can focus more on the important stuff.
Dr. Dugdale notes in her book:
“In fact, since you can’t take it with you and your world will shrink one day anyway, start the habit now of giving your stuff away.”
There’s nothing wrong with ambition and success, but to live a good life, we ought to embrace the Latin reminder Memento mori, which means, “Remember you must die.”
It may sound depressing, but it’s liberating.
Because when we take a hard look at our lives, we begin to see the burdens we carry. Ballooning mortgages, endless car payments, credit card debt, stuffed garages, and more.
Deep personal reflection leads to other insights. Like the immense time we waste on social media distractions, Cable news hysteria, unhealthy diets, and poor lifestyle choices.
What would our lives look like if we abandoned these things and focused instead on our health, relationships, education, creative passions, and helping others?
We discovered that less is more
In 2016 I was a busy law enforcement professional, serving my tenth year as Chief of Police and 26th year in police work. I enjoyed my career but grew weary of the stress and politics.
Nicole’s work stories and experiences with her grandparents reminded me how short life is. Despite having only five years left to earn a full pension, I decided to retire early. I wanted more family time and to pursue my writing.
To compensate for the reduced income of early retirement, we embraced minimalism. We sold our home, moved to a more affordable state, and downsized.
Decluttering, adopting a simplified wardrobe, and shedding unnecessary stuff improved our quality of life. My flexible schedule as a writer allowed for more exercise, walks with my dogs, reading, and leisurely conversations with Nicole and our son.
We discovered that less is more. Little did we know how the positive changes in our lives would prepare us for what came next.
Start living our best lives
In 2021 Nicole found a lump in her breast, and doctors confirmed it was breast cancer. We found ourselves thinking about Memento mori every day.
The entire year was a flurry of appointments, tests, surgeries, follow-ups, and healing. Thankfully, the cancer was caught early, and Nicole’s prognosis is excellent.
To celebrate her recovery, we traveled this year to Scotland. We toured all over, visiting the Highlands, boating down lochs, exploring castles, and enjoying the country and its lovely people.
A good death demands a good life. The warm memories of our Scotland trip reflect the best of life.
There was a moment in Scotland when Nicole stood on an old bridge, looking down at the flowing river below. Water under the bridge, just like the troubles and challenges we had overcome.
The scene moved me, and I snapped a photograph of that beautiful moment.
The photo is a reminder that when we simplify, declutter, and accept Memento mori, we can shed the burdens we carry. We can chart a better future.
We can start living our best lives.
***
John P. Weiss is a fine artist, retired police chief, and author of “What Life Should Be About: Elegant Essays on the Things That Matter.” He blogs about living a more artful life.
Kathy Hardy says
Going through this right now with my 85 year old parents! They never saved a single penny and have a house full of “stuff” that we are now trying to go through and get rid of. It’s so heart breaking, but eye opening at the same time. Thank you for this and good luck to you!
Diane Morse says
We also retired early at 55. Now at 74 we have no regrets. One of us have had to deal with a challenging illness for 20 years.
I would add most importantly to put God first. He is the best adventure of all! Endeavor to know Him and enjoy His Creation! Find a place to worship Him with fellow believers. Be a student of His Word. Because you can take this with you when you enter His kingdom!
Gail TF says
I love John Weiss’s writings, always insightful and well stated
Vanavan says
Hi John,
Thank you very much for sharing your insights about life..It is a big inspiration for me to plan my early retirement and spend time with our loved ones..
Thank you once again…
Neeraj says
My father went to be with Jesus on the 30.11.22. A very poignant article indeed. Life is very short. At his thanksgiving service no-one spoke of what he owned. Only of who he was. A child of God. :)
Thankful for his life, the wisdom, faithfulness that he showed to my mother, myself and my sister. My life is all the richer for it. Experiences over stuff any day of the week!
Judy says
Thanks John! I recently stopped caregiving for a woman who was quite the hoarder. Her possessions were meticulously guarded—- and she put them before anything or anyone. Recently her children had enough and placed her in assisted living. Her years of saving everything that came her way will likely be tossed in a weekend. I wonder how she’s coping without all her junk.
Judy says
P.S. Thank you for your service! :)
John P. Weiss says
Thanks for reading, Judy. Hoarding is a disease best treated by professionals. It’s sad because the pleasure hoarders find in their stuff prevents them from addressing deeper issues.
Matthew Betzen says
I appreciated your essay. In August, I retired after 34 years in L.E., the last 11 as a Chief in South Dakota. I could have kept going, but I was bone weary. I will try my hand at writing, gardening, photography, and, most of all, enjoying life. Your perspective is a good reminder of important issues that often get lost in the grind of life.
Thank you. Be safe.
John P. Weiss says
Congrats on your retirement, Matthew, and thanks for your service.