A good friend died recently. He was 79 years old, but mostly seemed younger than his years.
By profession, he was a nuclear engineer; one of the smartest people I’ve ever known. He was also perhaps the most soft-spoken person I’ve ever met, and he rarely spoke. When he did, you knew it was time to listen.
I spent many afternoons sitting on his couch visiting with him and his wife. He offered wise counsel about how to live life.
After retirement, he didn’t go quietly into the night. He used his extra time to be engaged in our community politically, socially, and religiously. He was never one to just watch life go by. His active participation in life, I think, is what helped him stay sharp.
And then, just about a year before his passing, he was diagnosed with an inoperable brain tumor. The chemotherapy stalled the tumor’s growth, but it also sapped his energy for life.
It was painful to watch.
Because now I’ve lost two good friends to brain tumors. And I’ve realized something about the way life fades out.
I don’t know that I’ve experienced more loss than the next person my age, but someone I maintain a deluded fantasy that the end of life is something abrupt; that it always ends in a sudden collapse or dramatic turn. Most of the time, of course, that’s not how it happens.
Life tends to fade in quieter ways. For so many of us, it fades in small decisions, changes (abandonment) of daily habits; a gradual shift from doing to watching.
At some point, a lot of people stop participating and start observing (or just consuming).
I’ve always been a doer, but I’ve realized that there are areas of my life where I’ve stopped doing. Of course, there are times and seasons for things, but I don’t run like I used to, I’ve gained 35 pounds, and I spend more time doom-scrolling on my phone than I’d like to admit.
It’s so easy to get caught up in valueless distractions: YouTube, news, little things that fill up time without giving anything in return.
It didn’t happen all at once. It was something of a slow drift. In 2023, I set a new record of more than 1,400 miles run. Then, I burned out. I decided to take a little break that turned into a long break. Of course, I didn’t change my eating habits — you can mostly eat what you want when you’re running 30+ miles a week most weeks.
It’s taken me 15 months to realize that I’m caught in a slow descent into passive consumption.
My friend’s life didn’t fade away through distraction. He didn’t spend his final years “just keeping up” with the world. He stayed engaged, stayed sharp, and stayed in motion until his body wouldn’t let him anymore. He still took time to relax when it was needed, but he didn’t give into the slow decay that sometimes comes with age.
And when I think about my own habits of late, I have to ask:
- Is this how my life is going to fade out?
- Am I going to allow myself to drift into a life of passive consumption?
- Or am I going to start doing again?
One thing I know about myself is that I’m a builder.
- I’ve helped businesses succeed, and am building my own companies now.
- I build software.
- I build systems that make things better.
But I’ve let stress and anxiety rob me of things that were (are) important to me. In some ways, I’ve become more consumer than creator.
The question now is whether this is just a reflection on a friend’s passing or a wake-up call.
Because if I’m honest, I don’t want my life to fade out in a slow drift toward meaningless distractions. I don’t want to reach the end with the final tally heavy on consuming, scrolling and watching. I want it to be tilted way towards the side of creating, building, and living.
I want to stay engaged.
I want to build.
I want to be present for the people who matter most to me.
So, this is my line in the sand.
When my life comes to a close, I don’t want to look back and say,“Well, at least I watched a lot of YouTube.”
I want to look back and say, “I loved, I served, and I built something that mattered.”
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