On the Shortness of Life

You would have thought I had already learned my lesson. 

Eight years ago I did that which no parent should ever have to do. I buried a child. 

Brittany passed away at the age of fourteen after a brief bout with illness. It left us all in shock. One day she was there, the next she wasn't. For months after her passing I could still hear her voice as if she were in my presence. I expected to see her in the bedroom or sitting on the couch. But I didn't. 

When we knelt for family prayers or sat at the dinner table, there was an obvious void. It felt as if our family had been slashed in half. It was like a bad dream that you hope to wake up from, hoping that the day in the hospital and the funeral were just cruel jokes. But that bad dream continued, and our world of denial became a world of reality. 

Brittany.

I remember my relations with my wife and kids in the time immediately following her death. I hugged them more. I wanted to be with them. Any contention or small squabbles or attention paid to their shortcomings seemed to vanish. In short, I showed them more unconditional love. 

It also made me ponder much on the fragility of life. Brittany didn't deserve to die. No one does. But she did. 

My Grandpa Shumway was killed at the age of 40. My Uncle Jim was only 39 when he passed. And one of my best friends from high school, Nathan Winder, was killed in Iraq at the young age of 32. 

So no, life's not fair, and all of us will die at one time or another. It may be in 70 years, or it may be tomorrow. But it is up to us to take advantage of this life and not squander it. We should reevaluate our lives and decide what is most important. That is the lesson I learned from Brittany's death. 

But life went on and like many of life's lessons, it became lost and forgotten in the jumble of our mortal existence. 

A high mountain lake in Colorado.

About a year later I had a close family member attempt suicide. It was a terrifying experience. Had he not been found at that exact time, he too would have died. It was one of those experiences that traumatized all of us. Even though he would have a long road ahead, we were grateful he was alive. 

But once again it sent my mind back to the day that Brittany died. I remembered those feelings of unconditional love, and then I felt ashamed that I had let them slip from my fingers in less than a year. I wanted to do better. 

That is part of the battle we have while on Earth. We go up and down and struggle to always improve, but there are so many distractions, so many false-roads that we travel that it is difficult—and nearly impossible—to always stay on the strait and narrow. 

Summit of Wilson Peak, 14,023 feet above sea level.

Now it's happening again. But this time it's me. 

This past year has been a difficult one. In addition to all the chaos and inconvenience placed upon us by the Covid-19 pandemic, I have experienced a lot of pain and sickness myself. 

In October I was diagnosed with Polycythemia Vera, a rare blood cancer that affects the way my body creates red blood cells. In short, it creates too many and that causes problems with other areas of my body. The disease is progressive and there is no cure. But with proper treatment I can live a “near normal” life according to my oncologist. 

That last fact is reassuring, but my pain still hasn't resolved. I am also at higher risk of blood clots and strokes. Someone in my category has an expected life span of 25 more years. But I am only 47. I was hoping to make it to 100. And with my continuing discomfort in my stomach, there are more procedures and surgeries to be done and we can't completely rule out the possibility of a second cancer. 

My whole life ahead is uncertain. I don't know how long I'll live, nor the quality of life I will enjoy. It has forced me to sit down and reevaluate those same lessons that I learned after Brittany passed. I must decide and live my life based on what is most important. 

Seneca.

In the year 49 A.D., the Roman philosopher, Seneca, wrote an essay entitled On the Shortness of Life. He argues that life gives us ample time, it's just that we waste much of it in vain pursuits, or just idling it away. Consistent with his stoic philosophy, he recommends we be disciplined in how we use our time. 

His views are summarized in this excerpt from the opening paragraph: “It is not that we have a brief length of time to live, but that we squander a great deal of that time. Life is sufficiently long, and has been granted with enough generosity for us to accomplish the greatest things, provided that in its entirety it is well invested; but when it is dissipated in extravagance and carelessness, when it is spent on no good purpose, then, compelled at last by the final necessity, we realize it has passed away without our noticing its passing.” 

He continues by elaborating: “All that remains of our existence is not actually life, but merely time. We are besieged by vices that encircle us, preventing us from rising up or lifting our eyes to contemplate the truth, and keeping us down once they have overwhelmed us, our attention fixed upon lust.” 

I considered this. What are the “vices that encircle us” and “lust” that our attention is fixed upon? The first thing that came to mind was media and how much time we waste watching television or scrolling the internet on our phones. 

Much of our attention seems to be fixed on how to make more money so we can buy more and more things of this world. These are things that we see our neighbors and friends have. What happened to the world just a few generations past when we had much less and our lives were more simple and happy? 

Seneca denounces a lifestyle that has too much leisure or pleasure. He mentions people who “have spent their lives engaged in chess-playing or exercise with ball or the practice of roasting their bodies in the sun.” He goes on to condemn “useless literature,” stating that “no benefit will accrue from such knowledge.” 

A common theme in modern society is how busy we are. Seneca hits on this: “It is generally agreed that no activity can be properly undertaken by a man who is busy with many things.” And then he wisely adds: “Nothing concerns the busy man less than the business of living.” 

Marathon in the Tushar Mountains.

He also advises on living in the present. “Live here and now!” But he also stresses the need for balance in regard to the past and future: “Should a period of time have passed, he embraces it in his memory; if it is present, he makes use of it; if it is to come, he anticipates it. By combining all times into one he makes his life a long one. But those who forget the past, ignore the present, and fear for the future have a life that is very brief and filled with anxiety.” 

Reading the wisdom of Seneca, as well as that of other sages, has given me a boost in dealing with my new prognosis. I have also learned a lot in observing great examples of people who surround me. One bit of advise I have learned is to stay positive and only worry about those things that are within my control. 

London in 2008.

In regard to the shortness of our lives and the uncertainty of my own point on the continuum of life, I have narrowed my priorities into three categories: 

One. Seize the moment. There are so many good things to do and see on this planet that I can't waste time or miss opportunities to do things I have always wanted to do. I have huge lists of countries I want to visit, mountain peaks I want to climb, hikes I want to take, books I want to read, people I want to interview, food I want to eat, pictures I want to take, history I want to learn. The more I focus on not wasting my time and seizing the moment, the more of these activities I will check off my list. 

Here's an example. I've got a brother-in-law with whom at one time we had a plan to go to a remote canyon and explore some archeological sites that had been hidden from the public until recently. Unfortunately, he and my wife's sister got a divorce and life led us in paths where we lost most of our contact. But I've always enjoyed his friendship and just last week we made contact and decided that this summer we are doing our excursion—after about 8 years! 

Somewhere close to home.

Two. Family. Nothing on this Earth is more important than family. My wife and kids mean everything to me. But do I act as if they do? Do I listen to them, hug them, kiss them, and make time for them? I mentioned above some of the things I'd like to do. But nothing in that category is more important than my family. What does a person have who travels the world and has climbed all the highest peaks, yet loses their family? Nothing. 

I still can improve in this area. I'm trying. Last summer my wife decided to get a large new patio in our backyard. What a great opportunity to make dinner on the grill, roast smore's over the fire and play card games around a table, creating family memories that will last a lifetime. Seizing the moment includes taking advantage of opportunities with your family. 

For me, the temple is one of the best places on Earth to come closer to God.

Three. My relationship with God and preparation for death. I am a religious man. I believe we are sent to the Earth for a purpose. I believe our actions during this lifetime will have eternal consequences. Instead of fumbling through life, being tossed to and fro by the fads and popular ideas of the world, we should be focused on a deeper pursuit. As one scripture puts it, “This life is the time for men to prepare to meet God.” 

Jesus, while he lived on the Earth, practiced unconditional love, charity, service, humility, patience, forgiveness, virtue. He invited all to “come follow me.” Shouldn't we be striving to be like Him? 

If I believe in God, then I should live it. 

Also, if I believe in a life that is eternal, then I should not fear death. Death is just a step, a portal through which we all must pass. As one man said just days before dying, “Now it's time to put our faith in eternity.” 

If I can exercise faith that death is not the end, but another step in our eternal existence, then my actions on Earth will have deeper meaning. I will be less likely to waste my mortal existence and will strengthen my bonds with those people that are most important. 

Quoting Seneca: “Withdraw, then, to these more peaceful, safer, greater things! . . . in order to discover what substance, what will, what manner of existence, what shape God has, what fate is waiting for your soul; where nature gives us rest once we have been released for our bodies. 

“Now, while the blood is warm, we must step out vigorously on the path to better things. Many things worth knowing wait for you in this manner of life—the love and exercise of the virtues, the ability to forget the passions, the knowledge of living and of dying, a state of deep repose.” ♠

 

Bottom of the Grand Canyon.