1: “We live as if we can control the hands of time,” Diane Button writes in her wonderful book What Matters Most: Lessons the Dying Teach Us About Living.
“We spend time, waste time, lose time, save time, kill time, and buy time,” Diane notes. “We live as if the clock ticks based on our own needs and desires.”
And yet, time is finite. And we never know how much time we still have left.
“A very memorable client taught me a lot about how we spend our time,” she shares. As an end-of-life doula, she shares this story “because it applies to so many of us…maybe not the money…but the message.”
Her client, Hendricks, was seventy years old, suffering from coronary heart disease. “He already had two cardiac bypass surgeries and a pacemaker,” Diane writes. “During his last surgery, he had another heart attack.”
His doctors told him he had to dramatically change his lifestyle to live another year—eliminate stress, exercise, and change his diet.
“This was challenging for Hendricks, who loved working and wasn’t ready to slow down,” Diane observes.
“He wanted to talk to me about his future,” she writes, “but it turned out that we spent most of our time together talking about the past.”
“As I look out today, I see this successful winery and this vast fortune I’ve managed to amass,” Hendricks told her. “Yet look at my home. It’s empty…and so quiet. How is it possible for one man to have so much, and also to have so little?”
Diane writes: “It turns out that Hendricks burned a lot of bridges on his way up the ladder of material success. He alienated friends, neighbors, and even his own family. He poached workers from other local winemakers and then didn’t treat them well.”
Hendricks told her he had been arrogant and focused entirely on his growing bank account.
“His remorse was painful to hear,” she notes. “As I listened to him share his story and his regrets, I couldn’t help but think about the giant house, the empty chairs, the white walls, and the tall ceilings.”
He said his material possessions were a smokescreen to make it seem as if his life were perfect.
It wasn’t. “He craved fame and notoriety and wanted everyone to look up to him,” Diane shares, “but in the end, no one did. I was struck by his raw and honest way of sharing this revelation.”
“Maybe I was afraid…afraid of love, afraid of not being a success,” he reflected. “I really don’t know why I never put other people first, but I see now how selfish I was. I don’t blame anyone but myself. I f***ed up. I wasted so much time…time that I will never get back with my family or my friends…time I will never get back to travel, or take a long hike in the woods, or just to sit around a table and talk about the day.”
As his life came to an end, Hendricks attempted to reach out to his family to reconnect. But no one came. He passed away with a caregiver holding his hand.
2: Diane contrasts Hendricks’s story with that of another client, Lenny.
“Lenny wanted to meet with me to make sure he ‘wasn’t missing anything.'” Diane writes.
“I’m no doctor and I’m no psychic,” he told her, “but this disease seems to be knocking me down faster than I can get back up. I’ve had a good life, and now I need to plan for a good death.”
For the past six years, Lenny had been fighting a type of cancer that attacked his plasma cells. The cancer was winning. “His thinning bones led to a broken hip, and he suffered from anemia and ongoing kidney problems,” Diane writes.
He knew his time was short. “Right away,” she shares, “I admired his willingness to explore his life, uncover any potential unfinished business, and talk about any regrets.”
Lenny worked as an insurance broker for a nationally known firm. Married for 48 years, he had 4 children, 9 grandchildren, and numerous friends who often visited.
“I watched Lenny treat them all as if they were his best friend,” Diane explains. “It seemed that Lenny’s mission in life was to make every person in his world feel special… especially his grandchildren.”
Lenny arranged to take every Friday afternoon off from work. Often, he worked late or on weekends to make up the time. But Friday afternoons? Always reserved for ice cream and grandkids.
He purchased a twelve-passenger Ford bus. Lenny and his wife would take all nine grandkids for ice cream and an outing.
“Each grandchild had their own personal song, created by Lenny, that they all knew and sang along the way,” she observes. “It was Lenny’s way of helping each one to feel special.”
What he truly cared about was people, and he spent time each day building and strengthening the relationships in his life.
What can we learn from Lenny? He “was a rare client,” she notes. “He was one of the few who seemed to have figured out very early in his life what mattered most and then lived his life accordingly. . .
“Lenny died with a giant, gentle smile on his face. He made the most of his time on earth. He said everything he wanted to say, did everything he needed to do, and felt that pure love from his family, which helped him die in peace.”
3: Lenny’s story is an example of what happens when we slow down, cherish our time, and are intentional about the choices we make.
“Take a moment when we first wake up to set an intention for your day,” Diane suggests, “not based on success or productivity but based on who and what is most important to us and how we want to spend our precious time.
“Lenny’s story reminds me of the memorable words of another client named Ellen, a wise and wonderful forty-two-year-old woman who faced her death with such courage.
Ellen told Diane, “You can replace anything in this world except for time and the people you love. Make the most of both of those, and you will live a wonderful life. Money comes and goes, but time only goes.”
More tomorrow!
________________________
Reflection: When I picture the end of my life, what does my day-to-day use of time reveal about my priorities right now?
Action: Choose one specific relationship or simple joy (like Lenny’s Friday afternoons) and intentionally block time for it this week, treating that commitment as non‑negotiable on my calendar.
What did you think of this post?
