I do, however, quite intentionally intend to cherish my friends, to enjoy my family and to deepen my involvement in those activities that feed my soul. It is a kind of adopted discipline that comes when one reaches the age that constitutes the death-watch of one's life. Still there is a fear that death might come suddenly and leave each of us with our unfinished dreams or our unappreciated relationships. In my heart of hearts I have determined that I do not want to die until I have been able to say in both word and deed to those I hold dearest just how much they mean to me. Those were among the thoughts that erupted from within me as I saw this irrational human drama unfold before my eyes on Highway 24 on May 13, 1997.
Death can come so suddenly, so unexpectedly.
It can come no matter how healthy our diet, how constantly we exercise or how regularly we see our doctor. It sometimes comes with the suddenness of a bolt of lightning, and that reality must be factored into our lives at every moment. So every time I see my wife, every time I speak by phone to my children or my grandchildren, every time I preach or celebrate at a service of worship, every time I preside over a meeting or a convention, every time I share a meal with special friends, those experiences must be filled with the presence of my best, for I never know when they might turn out to be my last. The talk among the five of us at the restaurant in New York that night was somber, open, barrier-less, honest and filled with an awareness of this fragile wonder of life. All of us knew that finitude had invaded our minds in a powerful way.