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.
Susan says
This is lovely ! I’m going to pass this along to a few people in my life. So good to make us stop , think, and plan. Thank you!
John P. Weiss says
Thanks for reading, Susan.
Diann Clark says
I was very touched by this article. So very much rings true in this life we’ve grown up in. I’ve had a couple recent moves, and that certainly helps to minimize. For every piece of clothing I buy, I always donate two or three to lessen my baggage. Thank you for the wonderful reminder.
John P. Weiss says
Diann-It is amazing how a move can inspire us to let things go. Moving is hard work, and exhaustion brings clarity. We ask, “Do I really need all these sweaters?” Thanks for reading.
Holly Nye says
Thank you for this. I read a comment here about how some of us had acquired stuff that was not ours and we didn’t do it out of selfishness or greed a lot of the time it is sentimental that is so ture. But as I get older and read more things like this and think of the weight that I took on when my mother died and I found some of my dad’s stuff some of my grandfather’s and my grandmothers and didn’t have the other grandparents’ stuff because my sister took it years before. So stuff is very useable so I don’t want to throw it away. But as I read and listen more to minimalistic views I am finding it’s easier to not buy stuff and get rid of my mill stones and my mom’s mill stones as well and it is so freeing.
John P. Weiss says
Holly-The sentimental things are hard to part with. Last week I finally pulled down a box of mobile replicas my father made of famous buildings in Vienna (a place he loved). The replicas are made out of cardboard, hand painted, and beautifully done. But they were damaged years ago by water and mice in my mother’s garage. And they’ve sat for a few years in my garage. So I photographed them, repackaged them, said my goodbyes, and set them on the curb for bulk week garbage pickup. Only you will know when and if it’s time to part with sentimental things, but it’s possible. It can even be a bit freeing.
nancy kressin says
Thank you for this lovely post. I do want to remind the leaders and the community, however, that some of us have not accumulated stuff through greed or desire to have more, but through other mechanisms. Some of us can’t let go because of sentimental reasons, some of us are hoarders, some of us just not never got around to cleaning up, etc. etc. It hasn’t all been about acquisition and consumerism.
Holly Nye says
Yes, hugs.
John P. Weiss says
Nancy- Great point. There are many reasons why we acquire things. I inherited a ton of stuff when my father died. Whatever the reason behind the possessions, it’s helpful to ask if the stuff brings us joy or burdens. And of course, hoarders often struggle with underlying psychological wounds best helped by professionals. Thanks for reading.
Rebecca says
Thank you for these truths. My book club just completed three touching and thought-provoking books on dying, hospice, and such – When Breath Becomes Air, Being Mortal, and Choosing a Good Death After a Long Life. I will now also look for and read what you’ve referenced here. I am a nurse and worked for about three years as a hospice nurse long ago. I am older now and again drawn to that work. This post helps affirm that interest.
John P. Weiss says
Thanks Rebecca, for your comments and for your service in nursing. There’s a special place in my heart for health care providers.
Lin says
My father died suddenly after just one year of a well-earned retirement.
Consequently, my whole family has retired at their earliest possible opportunity.
I try to remember every day— you can always make more money.
You can’t make more time.
John P. Weiss says
Lin- My Dad retired at age 79. He passed a few years after that. Which is why I, like your whole family, chose to retire early. You’re right, time trumps money.
Nicki says
Thank you so much for sharing this beautiful story!
John P. Weiss says
Thanks for reading, Nicki.
Deborah Cobb says
Beautiful reminder. Thank you. You were wise to retire early.
John P. Weiss says
Thanks for reading, Deborah.
Subir Roy says
Can’t stop reading it again and again
John P. Weiss says
Thanks Subir, glad the essay was helpful.
Melanie Carter says
Wow. Profound. I read your comments on Joshua’s posts and thought you were wise. Now I know you are. Thank you for this piece.
John P. Weiss says
Kind of you to write, Melanie. I think my wisdom is like a broken clock. Lots of misses but maybe twice a day I get it right. Thanks for reading.