The Rest of Your Life...How Long Might That Be?

I just returned from my hometown of Fond du Lac, Wisconsin, where I spent five days, along with my wife, helping my mother and two sisters plan for my brother’s funeral and going through his property.  I might add that I am the oldest of the four, so it was my younger brother who died.
This gives me a perspective on mortality that I was not quite ready to address.  My father died in 1984 when I was still in my thirties so had no qualms about living forever at the time.  Until Jeff died last week (on my sister’s birthday) I was safe and feeling invincible knowing that my mother was still alive.  I didn’t think much about mortality and end-of-life issues with her still living.  Now that my younger brother has passed on, it has come to the fore.

If I am truly honest, I have been thinking about “the rest of my life” for some time now.  I recently hit Medicare age, and my wife is five years older.  When we talk of plans to do something (a cruise to Alaska, a return to London) and mention that we might be able to do it in a couple of years, I add those couple years to my age and start to be concerned.  I salve my fears but noting that my 56 year old brother had diabetes and heart disease, both chronic conditions, but that was what ultimately took him from us.  I have some chronic health issues, none as bad as Jeff’s, but still of concern.  Or am I in denial?  My doc says I am “pre-diabetic.”  I have an occasional heart arrhythmia mostly controlled by medicines.  But the wrong beat on the wrong cycle and I could go down like a ton of whale blubber.  OK, that’s too graphic, even for me.  But you get the picture.

I am one to approach problems and challenges with a plan.  I like to control my destiny, not be controlled by the whims of nature.  I am not one to ignore serious issues -- well, maybe for a while, but I usually take care of business.  I need to make a plan to live better and control my weight and my fat intake.  And my carb intake.  And my sugar intake.  Good grief, what is left?  I will get to that later this week.

Maybe the greatest lesson I can learn from Jeff’s death is that we all need to talk to each other.  Family needs to get together and appreciate every other person, even those who are prickly at times.  Say those nice things, give genuine compliments where due, rather than saying “I will do that later.”  Write that little note to a friend or relative telling them something you’ve meant to say for some time.  Email is OK but still a poor substitute for a hand-written note.  A lost art, I suppose.

What brought this to my head was that our family had just enjoyed a birthday dinner for my sister and her husband at a Fond du Lac steakhouse just two days before Jeff died coming home from the grocery. The family had a great time and Jeff looked better than he had in the year before.  We laughed, told stories, and enjoyed each other’s company.  Jeff even picked up the tab for all eight of us.  Two days later he was dead.  For us, the family dinner was a blessing, allowing us a recent and pleasant time with our son and brother.

Remember that.  We never know what might come our way – a heart attack, or an errant texting driver.  Keep your relationships up to date.  Say the good things you need to say.  There really is no downside, is there?