1: “So many of my clients tell me profound, beautiful things about their loved ones,” Diane Button writes in her wonderful book What Matters Most: Lessons the Dying Teach Us About Living.
Yet, when asked if they have shared those thoughts or would like to write them down so they can be shared, they often reply, “I’m sure they already know” or “It goes without saying.”
As an end-of-life doula, Diane observes: “You would be surprised how often these assumptions turn out to be wrong. If you don’t speak the words in your heart now, you may find they’re still there years later, still waiting to be said. And sometimes, it’s too late.”
She shares the example of Evelyn.
“Evelyn was a caring woman,” Diane writes, “but her family would say that she had always been stubborn and was known for speaking her mind when she was upset.
One day, as her time grew short, Evelyn spoke to Diane about her grandchildren. Of her grandson, Todd, who was out taking a walk, she said, “Todd is special. He is strong, smart, kind, and he has always been so thoughtful. He visits and calls me regularly, even though he has been busy with college and now his new job as a software engineer.”
Pointing at a photo on the wall, she said, “That’s him right there, the handsome one with the big smile. I’m going to miss him. I sure wish I could live to see all the amazing things he will accomplish in his life.”
Evelyn died later that morning. Diane and her fellow doula shared with Todd what his grandmother had said: “She was sure was proud of you, Todd, and so grateful for all the phone calls and visits from you over the years. Her last words were about how much she loves you, how much you’ve accomplished, how kind you are, and how much she is going to miss seeing everything you are going to achieve in your lifetime.”
Todd looked confused. “Really, she said that? She never said anything like that to me.”
He “seemed somewhat hurt,” Diane writes. He also smiled and said it was good to know that she felt that way.
2: Getting better at getting better is what RiseWithDrew is all about. Monday through Thursday, we explore ideas from authors, thought leaders, and exemplary organizations. At the end of each week, we are exploring some of the life lessons from Diane’s book What Matters Most.
In another poignant moment, Diane remembers, “Mari hadn’t spoken for two days, and she was peaceful and still.”
She recalls herself holding back tears as she sat in the room with “this beautiful young mom, surrounded by her family, about to take her final breath.”
Family members shared stories and memories. Laughter and tears filled the room.
“Suddenly, Mari opened her eyes,” Diane writes. “She looked around the room, then paused and looked at her husband. “Thank you for being the love of my life,” she said.
Then she went around the room, looking each person in the eye. “Thank you for being the sweetest daughter I could have ever imagined,” Mari said. “You have added so much to my life.
“Thank you for being such a caring and kind son. I am so proud of you.
“Thank you for being my big sister and always making me feel special,” she said.
Then Mari looked at Diane and said, “Thank you for being my friend.”
“And then I cried,” she writes.
Mari’s words that day inspired Diane to be more precise about what she is grateful for. “Now I prefer to say ‘Thank you for holding the door for me’ or ‘Thank you for helping me lift those boxes.’ It feels more meaningful when an act of kindness is named out loud.”
3: The speed of modern life can impact our ability to connect with others.
“Just as we rush through our days,” Diane observes, “we often rush through conversations with those we love most. Multitasking means that we are never 100 percent present with just one thing. We get distracted easily and don’t focus on what is most essential and meaningful to say.”
She asks: “What if we all spoke to each other as if it were the last chance to tell someone about the difference they made in our lives?”
Our connections grow stronger when we share with others the difference they’ve made in our lives.
“Healing can take place in the final days or moments of life,” Diane notes, “but I can’t help but think about all the time that was lost and all the opportunities that were missed along the way to say the words, to grow, and to share life.
“There is a better path,” she reflects. “Whenever you have an opportunity to tell someone how you feel about them, do it. It will feel good for the person you tell, and it will feel good for you, too.”
Diane then shares the story of George Lee.
“On rare occasions,” she observes, “I meet someone who has lived their life speaking their heart and sharing their words. They often have an easier time at the end. George was one of those intentional people who did not leave the important words left unsaid.”
George was a World War II veteran. He led a strong faith-based life and became an Episcopal priest. He also saw himself as a community organizer, an outspoken voice for the underdog. He worked hard to improve the lives of the underserved and marginalized people.
Even at the age of ninety-four, George attended a meeting with two hundred neighbors to oppose a proposed dam project.
He approached the microphone and said, “My name is George Lee. I am ninety-four years old, and I should be in bed.”
The crowd that night laughed and applauded. Then George outlined the reasons for opposing the proposed project. “As long as George could speak out, he did,” Diane notes.
He was also intentional about speaking out within his own family.
“He was married to Grace, the love of his life, for forty-two years,” she writes. “They had five children and five grandchildren. They thoughtfully created a multigenerational home and enjoyed having family nearby.
“I admired their deep family ties and the quality time they spent together,” Diane explains. “He never missed an opportunity to tell his family all the things he cherished about them. Healthy communication was important to George, and all of his family members knew how much they meant to him.”
She saw George for the last time on a rainy day at his home in Palolo Valley on Oahu. “His hospital bed looked out to the moss-covered trees, and the slatted windows welcomed a fresh breeze and the sound of water rippling from the creek below,” Diane recalls. “George was calm and filled with gratitude. He seemed fearless.”
The day before he died, George told Grace, “I think I’m going to die tomorrow. Is that OK?”
Grace was taken aback, but she said, “OK,” with some hesitation in her voice.
That night, George’s daughter Carol was helping to get him ready for bed when he said, “I just want you to know, I’ll be leaving you tomorrow.”
She was surprised, but George was sleepy, so she gently hugged him and whispered, “I love you.”
The next morning, George told his son-in-law, Pete, in a matter-of-fact voice, “I’m going to die today.”
Carol shares, “When he passed that night, it was so incredibly sad, but it was also so joyful. There was so much love and so many sweet words.”
“George died the way that he lived, with nothing left unsaid,” Diane reflects.
“Don’t let the words in your heart die unspoken. . . Tell people they have made your life beautiful. And always say goodbye as if it’s for the last time.
“If you share your heart as you go through your life,” she notes, “you’re likely to avoid a lot of urgency at the end. Don’t hold back. Don’t wait. Say the words.”
More next week!
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Reflection: Who in my life have I assumed “already knows” how much they mean to me?
Action: Tell one person today, specifically and clearly, how they’ve impacted my life.
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