Helen Keller once asked herself, “if I had three days in which my eyes would work, what would I want to see?” She came up with an itinerary of how she would spend those days, which included gathering all her family and friends together to see their faces, experiencing a sunset and sunrise, going to a museum to see artifacts from the past, and attending a play because she wanted to see the full range of human emotions on the faces of its actors. She then changed the question slightly and posed the following question to her readers, “what would you want to see if you knew that three days from now you would lose your sight?”
It’s a good question. I’m sure if you sat and thought about it for a few minutes you would be able to come up with an impressive list that would likely not include sitting on your couch, watching a pre-season Leaf game.
What if we changed that question a little further and asked this, “if you knew that you had three days left to live, what would you fill those three days with”.
I asked myself that question, and I could only come up with one answer, “I would spend it with people”. By that, I don’t mean random people, I mean those who have been a significant part of my life; my circle, my people, my tribe.
I would want to tell my parents how much I appreciate their guidance, love, support, and wisdom. I would want to thank them for providing me with an example of how to live well and for giving me a wonderful childhood.
I would want to tell my kids that being their dad was my proudest accomplishment and tell each of them separately what I most cherish about them.
I would want to share with my brother and sister that although distance separated us for most of our adult lives, they were and always will be a valuable part of my journey.
I would want to tell those who used to be part of my life, but who no longer are, that seasons can be as beautiful as lifetimes.
I would want to hug my friends, those whose care and support have been a north star in my life and thank each of them.
My guess is that you may spend your final hours of life in a similar way.
Recently, a graduation ceremony was held at a university in the United States. The address to the students was given by the Chancellor who was also a doctor that had spent his professional life working in palliative care. He told them that he had watched hundreds of people breathe their last breath. He said that never once did a person who was dying ask to hold his or her trophies one last time, or ask to check their stock portfolio, or want to argue over which political party was better equipped to lead the nation. All they wanted was their loved ones around them holding their hand.
He then said to the students, “just remember that as much as you might think that money, success, and power are the measure of a successful and fulfilling life, In the end, all that matters is love. ALL, that matters is love.”
