“Life doesn’t owe us anything. We just have an obligation to make the most of the life we have and the time we have left, and to live with gratitude.” ~Bronnie Ware
Today I would like to talk about death.
These are words that tend to change the energy of a room. People become nervous, lean back, or become silent. Death is often seen as morbid, something to be avoided, and something to be feared. But I started to see things differently. The more openly and respectfully we talk about death, the less serious and frightening it becomes.
My first experience with death was when my grandparents passed away. I remember the moment my parents told me about my grandfather’s death. The atmosphere was very tense, very thick with indescribable sadness. I was five or six years old and I wanted to laugh. It wasn’t rude or indifferent. I now realize it was my body’s way of releasing the unbearable tension in the room.
But the most profound death experience occurred when my mother passed away. I was twenty-six years old. That was almost twenty years ago. she had cancer.
I spent long, quiet days with her in that bleak hospital room. I remember the stairs vividly. I purposely climbed the stairs one step at a time, as if dragging my feet and delaying the inevitable. Every step I took felt heavy, as if somehow I could resist the truth that awaited me on that floor.
I remember not knowing what to say or do, especially when she told me, “It’s hard.”
I think she held back tears for me just as I held back tears for her.
Some of us denied the truth. Some of us were clinging to hope. And some of us knew the inevitable would happen.
Now that I think about it, I wish I had cried with her. I wish I could have allowed myself to fully feel the sadness, the grief, the weight of it all. Instead, we put on a brave face and tried to protect each other. But what were we protecting? We were both struggling.
If I had known then what I know now, I would have met her final days differently. I would have provided her with a soft space to breathe, release, and let go of the hold. I would have guided her through that transition with love, reminding her to return to the beautiful energy of the universe, to the soul she loved.
I would have told her I loved her. Many times over the last few weeks we’ve spent together.
I carried the weight of guilt for years, especially for not being with her at the moment of her death. She changed her sex in the middle of the night while my sister and I were sleeping at home.
But now I choose to believe that she was not alone. Perhaps she was supported by the invisible forces of the soul field, her guides, and her loved ones on the other side. No one knows what happens after death, but I find this thought comforting.
I have come to believe that we need to talk about death. Rather than dwell on death, we accept the truth of death. Death is part of life. It’s a cycle, a beginning, a middle, and an end.
When I moved back to Florida after she passed away, I was shocked. Everything felt different and small compared to the enormity of what I had just experienced. Partying and drinking no longer appealed to me. My relationship felt empty and I couldn’t even remember why I was there. My job felt meaningless.
Death gave me a deeper understanding of impermanence and a quiet urgency to reevaluate my life. Not a desperate sense of urgency, but a deep realization that life is short. Life is precious. That realization was life-affirming.
Each breath is important. Each moment is important. That made me ask:
Where am I spending my energy? With whom? What am I serving? What am I contributing to this world?
This question was the beginning of my expansion. It wasn’t linear. There were a lot of advances and setbacks. But it set me on a path to aligning with the evolving truth.
I think we have to live with an awareness of death. Not just intellectually, but deeply to the bone. When we truly embody the knowledge that we will die, perhaps even today, it reshapes the way we live.
Buddhist teachings encourage imagining one’s own death and meditating on death. It’s not pathological. It’s becoming clear. How would you live if you knew you could die today?
In “The Top 5 Regrets of the Dying Person,” Bronny Ware shares wisdom from her years of experience as a palliative care nurse. The most common regrets she hears are:
1. “I wish I had had the courage to live a life true to myself instead of the life others expected of me.”
2. “I wish I didn’t have to try so hard.”
3. “I wish I had the courage to express my feelings.”
4. “I wish I had kept in touch with my friends.”
5. “I should have made you happier.”
These resonate deeply with me. When my mother passed away, I unconsciously began a journey to align my life with these truths. To be honest, I’m still working on those five. Sometimes life can distract us from what is most important.
But this is a reminder to myself and to you as the end of the year approaches.
Slow down. Please take a step back. Reflect on how far you’ve come and where you want to go next.
I want you to think about this. Think about your mortality and infuse your life with clarity and intention, not pressure. Perhaps you will realize that the most important thing is the time you spend with your loved ones. Maybe it’s chasing a dream, letting go of a grudge, or simply enjoying the gift of being alive.
