I attended the funeral of a relative.
He had been in long-term care, but his condition suddenly worsened, and he passed away.
He had always been a strong man who loved mountain climbing, so the news came as a shock.
Looking at his face in the coffin, I was reminded—people do die, inevitably.
On the way home from the funeral, I stopped by to see my younger brother.
He no longer had any monitors attached, and he looked calm, as if the critical condition he was in three weeks ago had never happened.
It seemed he might live another five or even ten years.
Then I turned my thoughts to myself.
Now that I’m past sixty, I know that the rest of my life is a kind of bonus, yet I can’t help wondering when my time will come.
Some people who seem healthy suddenly decline and die, while others who were thought to be near death recover.
We really never know when we’ll die—or how long we’ll keep living.
If we die with regrets, perhaps even finding peace in death becomes difficult.
Thinking that way, maybe “preparing to die” simply means living in such a way that we have no regrets.
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