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MY FIRST REACTION ON hearing my cancer diagnosis: I’m okay with this. My reaction a few hours later: I’m being self-centered.
My time is short, though how short remains an open question. Still, my truncated life expectancy makes something of a mockery of my pre-diagnosis comments about how we should view retirement not as the finish line, but rather as the beginning of a journey that might last two or three decades and perhaps account for almost half of our adult life.
Despite that, I feel no anger, sadness or fear about what lies ahead. While I’m going to do all that I can to extend my life, until all reasonable measures are exhausted, I’m not devastated by the thought that my life will be cut short. Why not? As I look back—yes, I suddenly find myself in the “summing up” phase—I feel great gratitude for the life I’ve been able to lead.
The fact is, I’ve had wonderful opportunities and experiences, and I consider myself very fortunate. Below are nine reasons I feel grateful. One thing that struck me about my list: While money is a factor in Nos. 1, 5 and especially 6, it’s of little or no importance to the other six items.
1. For most of my career, I’ve done work I thoroughly enjoy. Even today, I happily get up far too early, make a cup of coffee, and immediately start writing and editing. The only exception to this happy story was my six years at Citigroup, when—toward the end—I felt I was wasting my time and making scant difference in the world.
2. I’ve known enough bad times to have perspective. Everybody has rough periods, and it might seem like those times have no silver lining. But I’d argue bad times teach us who we are and nudge us toward a more nuanced view of the world. No, I have no desire to spend another nine years at English boarding school, or cope again with the aftermath of my father’s death, or have two wives leave me. But those experiences helped make me who I am, and I like to think they’ve knocked off some of the rough edges and pushed me to appreciate life more.
3. I have a close-knit family. I have two children and, so far, two grandkids. I also have an 85-year-old mother and three siblings, and—all these decades later—we all remain surprisingly close. I hear about so many fractured families, where old wounds fester and folks refuse to talk to one another. Somehow, we’ve avoided that fate.
4. I got the chance to push myself to my physical limits. As a schoolboy, I was scornful of athletic endeavors and made scant effort. That changed in my 30s, when I became intrigued by the idea of running a marathon. I ended up running four marathons and five half-marathons, including a half-marathon around the deck of a boat floating off the coast of Antarctica. I also ran a slew of local 5k, five-mile and 10-mile road races, finishing first on a dozen occasions. My dodgy right Achilles means I can no longer run, but I can still recall the pleasure of emptying myself during the final miles of a race.
5. I’ve had the opportunity to see much of the world. Not long before I turned age 10, my father was posted to Bangladesh for four years, giving us the chance to see much of the region. I’ve traveled often to Europe, and my children’s studies have meant I’ve spent time in Senegal, Egypt and Turkey. Sure, there are places I’d still like to see—and, at this point, probably won’t—but I don’t feel shortchanged.
6. While I worried a lot about money in my 20s and 30s, I haven’t worried much since. As I’ve come to appreciate, that’s rare: For far too many folks, money casts a dark shadow over every day, and escaping those worries can seem like an impossible task.
7. On a handful of occasions, I’ve felt like I had the world’s attention. A few times, I’ve appeared on major television shows, triggering phone calls and emails from folks I hadn’t heard from in years. When I was at The Wall Street Journal, I wrote some articles that prompted 500-plus complimentary emails. Such moments were rare enough to seem special—and sufficiently infrequent that my ego didn’t remain inflated for long.
8. I’m getting to spend my final days with someone I love deeply and who loves me. In the middle of the night, when dark thoughts derail my sleep, it’s wonderful to rest my hand on Elaine’s arm and draw comfort from her stillness.
9. I’ve been afforded the time to contemplate my own death. There will be no sudden demise or slow slide into dementia. How would you change your life if you knew you had just a year or two to live? I’m getting the chance to answer that question, and I consider it a great privilege.
Still, all of this is a tad selfish. I may not be racked with regret and sadness over my early departure from this life—but arguably I’m the lucky one. As I’ve come to realize, it isn’t me who is suffering, but rather those who will be left behind, and especially Elaine, who will need to build a life without me.
I have the chance to make my peace with my fate, while Elaine and other family members must grapple with all the uncertainty that’ll follow. I’m trying to make the most of each day I have left, even as they’re grieving—and my refusal to join in the grieving creates a void that makes it more difficult for them.
Jonathan Clements is the founder and editor of HumbleDollar. Follow him on X @ClementsMoney and on Facebook, and check out his earlier articles.
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Dear Jonathan,
I would like to add a few more to your list.
Kudos and thank you. Wish you the very best.
From “Dark Victory”(Bette Davis) “We all have to die. The difference is you know when and we don’t.” Thank you for everything, Jonathan.
Johnathan
You’ve done great work and I’ve been reading you since your WSJ days. I like Humble Dollar for the polite conversations and insights of the readers. They are a reflection of you. I suspect that 99% of us are educated and financially secure. What I wish is that we had conversations with currently poor folks. I suspect we’d have a lot to learn from each other. Thank you for existing. – Dave
Jonathan-Another article that is making us all think about the purpose of all this and how to make the best of things, while we are here. Thank you. Jim
Jonathan,
This is a classic article and will profoundly influence lot of folks to rethink how to live life. Over the years, you had a major impact on financial life of so many. I believe your best work is still ahead as you show us what really matters.
In retirement, the most valuable commodity is time and not money. Given that, how should we spend our time and money so that when we look back, we have no regrets? That is the challenge we face.
Jonathan – someone posted a comment (either you or a commentator) a few columns back stating “Happiness is a Choice.” That’s my new mantra going forward with the negative people I encounter in my life. Thank yo for sharing your wisdom with the rest of us.
One of my Buddhist wife’s favorite sayings is “Happiness is the gift you give yourself.”
My mantra is similar: “I choose Happiness.” I like that it’s action oriented.