My friends and colleagues who have reached the age of 70 or beyond appear to have little interest in the topic of death.
I’m a different kind of guy. It might be because twice in my last eight years, I thought I was making a grand exit. For me, neither time was a scary experience. I don’t want to say it was fun, like going to a birthday party, but it was okay. The warm glow of acceptance kept me from freaking out.
Since my encounters, I’ve read three outstanding books on the topic: “When Breath Becomes Air” by Paul Kalanithi, “The Art of Dying Well” by Katy Butler and “Farewell” by Edward Creagan. I thought, why not take an interest in something I know will take place in my lifetime?
This is how I think about death today – a kind and loving friend waiting patiently at my back door. Death allows me to come and go as I please through my front door: going to work, playing with my dogs, embracing loved ones. It may be next week or 20 years from today before I hear my back door gently open.
When it happens, I’m going to give my friend a warm greeting.