Audio PODCAST

I am closer to the end of life than I was 20 years ago, and I must admit it is on my mind more than it was 20 years ago. Over the years, I have seen friends and loved ones face their own mortality, which has inevitably made me more reflective about my own existence and the passage of time. Each day that passes serves as a reminder of the impermanence of life, prompting me to cherish my moments more deeply and to prioritize relationships and experiences that truly matter. As I navigate through my daily routines, thoughts about what I want to achieve before my time comes linger, shaping my decisions and encouraging me to live with intention while appreciating both the simple pleasures and profound connections along the way.

Thinking about waiting until the end of life stirs a mix of emotions—dread, curiosity, peace, or even impatience, depending on where one stands. It’s a contemplation that often creeps in during quiet moments, when the noise of the day fades and you’re left with the hum of your own thoughts. Some might picture it as a distant horizon, a finish line they’re in no rush to reach, while others see it as a looming shadow, sharpening their focus on what matters now.

The idea of waiting implies a kind of surrender to time—an acceptance that life’s chapters will unfold at their own pace. You might wonder what you’d do differently if you knew the exact page count. Would you linger more on the good days, savoring the small joys—a warm coffee, a laugh with a friend, the way sunlight spills through a window? Or would you race to tie up loose ends, chasing closure like it’s a deadline?

For some, it’s less about waiting and more about preparing. They might ask: Have I said what needs saying? Have I loved enough, fought enough, rested enough? Others might reject the question entirely, choosing instead to live as if the end isn’t a dot on the map but a blur they’ll deal with when it arrives. There’s no universal script for this. It’s personal, messy, and human.

Philosophers have chewed on this for centuries, contemplating the intricate dance between life and death. Stoics like Seneca urged us to think of death daily—not to morbidly obsess over it, but to sharpen our appreciation for the present moment and the fleeting nature of existence. “You live as if you were destined to live forever,” he wrote, nudging us to stop wasting time on trivial pursuits and to embrace the now with intention. This perspective invites us to reflect on our priorities and the ephemeral beauty in our lives. Meanwhile, someone like Camus might argue that it’s the absurdity of the end that gives life its edge—knowing it stops is what makes it worth wrestling with. The recognition of our mortality can ignite a fiery passion for living fully and authentically, pushing us to confront the chaos and meaninglessness while simultaneously finding joy in the struggle itself. Embracing both the transient and the absurd can lead to a richer, more profound experience of life, encouraging us to seek out connections, love, and purpose amidst the inevitable decay.

In the end, thinking about waiting till the end of life isn’t really about the end itself. It’s about what you do with the stretch in between—the hours, the years, the fleeting now that slip through your fingers like grains of sand. Whether you wait quietly, reflecting on moments that shaped your existence, or charge toward it with fervor and passion, the clock ticks the same for everyone, indifferent to our individual journeys. What changes is how you listen to it, how you interpret its passing, and how you choose to fill the time allotted to you. Each second can be a brushstroke on the canvas of your life, each minute an opportunity for joy, love, and connection. I have experienced a preview of time after life on this earth, glimpsing the ethereal realm that awaits us, and I truly believe a new experience and adventure waits for all, urging us to embrace the journey with open hearts and curious minds, ready to explore the mysteries that lie beyond.