Death Came. Here’s What I Learned.

In November of 2019, Death dropped off his calling card with my brother-in-law.

Pancreatic Cancer. Here you go.

And from that point on, we looked Death in the face every time we looked at my brother-in-law.

Through chemotherapy and surgery and radiation treatment, our family watched and supported and prayed and raged at the inequity of it all. That a 48, 49, 50 year old man should get this terrible, incurable disease.

On Thanksgiving Day, 2021, he didn’t succumb. He didn’t pass away. He was taken.

Death came alone but he left with my brother-in-law.

For over two years, I’ve been watching and thinking and learning.

I sure couldn’t figure out what lessons my brother-in-law was learning. And I couldn’t impose any lessons on my husband. So I turned inward.

What did Death want to tell me?

I learned many lessons in the last two years, but I’ve pared down Death’s lessons for me to three important ones.

One: Don’t Put Things Off.

Don’t wait for a better time or a better situation or a better paycheck.

My brother-in-law died with so many regrets.

He missed out on having kids. Oh, sure. I can hear many people saying, “That’s not everything.” And I agree — for people who choose that path.

But he didn’t. He meant to get around to it. After he bought a house and got married.

But he never got married because he couldn’t until he had a house. He never bought a house because he wasn’t making enough money. He wasn’t making enough money because he had a pre-conceived notion of how much was enough. And what he made was never enough.

He always wanted to travel and died with months and months of accrued vacation days.

He wanted to visit his siblings overseas for years. But he ended up too weak to travel, too weak to risk getting COVID. Just too weak.

He put things off until Death make the final call for him.

You can’t put off Death.

No procrastinating that decision.

Two: Things are Meaningless.

In the meantime, my brother-in-law bought lots and lots of things.

He had three different slicers, four different coffee makers, a chopper, and an Insta-pot.

He didn’t cook.

In fact, the pots and pans in the back of his kitchen closets had dust on them. They had never even been used.

He had four bed pillows, an adjustable bed, and a brand new down comforter, but he was in so much pain, he slept on a recliner or on the couch.

He had an apartment full of things.

Guess how many of those things Death allowed him to take?

As we were sorting through his stuff, clearing out his apartment before the lease was up, we were remembering the times we spent with him as a family. My husband told us stories of when they were growing up. He told the kids anecdotes of when my brother-in-law first came to California. He shared tales of humor and nostalgia.

Those memories were fragile and meaningful.

And they were more valuable than anything in that apartment.

Three: Appreciate The Moment You Are In Right Now.

For two years, we lived through the pain and agony of my brother-in-law’s illness. It wasn’t as bad as what he went through. I know that. But it was terrible having to watch him go through it and not being able to help him.

He would go through chemotherapy, experience the loss of appetite, the nausea, and the pain. And unfortunately, we saw him when he was at his worst, when he felt the lowest.

Because when he was feeling better, he would go in to work.

He would work ten hour days, barely arriving with minutes to spare on the days he was scheduled for chemo. He gave his best energy, his best time, to work.

That’s not to say that they didn’t love him and appreciate him at his job. They were just as devastated by his illness as we were.

But when we would tell him to focus on his own health, focus on getting better, on feeling better, he would always have something he needed to do. When his friends at work would tell him to take the day off, to take the time off, he would always have one more thing he had to get to.

He would look forward and see the responsibilities loom in front of him, instead of looking around him and seeing and spending time with his friends and family.

And as Death drew nearer, my brother-in-law wanted. more. time.

More time to see people.

More time to visit with his family, both near and far.

More time to experience life.

I get it.

From the minute we’re born, we are marching towards death.

But too often, we don’t think about it. We get caught up in the mundane, the day-to-day. We forget to savor life, to appreciate what we have and the people around us.

It’s so obvious. And yet, as I read back over this post, at the lessons Death shared with me, I realize that this isn’t new information. People say these things all the time.

It just sounds more important when you hear them at Death’s door, even if the door isn’t open for you.