What death has taught me.
While hanging out one weekend, I received a DM online from an old friend that sent me into a tailspin. I don’t normally check IG messages, but it felt strange for them to message so late, so I put my beer down and checked. They shared a post announcing the death of a friend and former colleague of mine at VIBE Magazine in the early 2000s. I was dumbfounded and devastated, unsure what to make of it. I didn’t want it to be true and wanted to believe the OP was sharing unverified information. But my rational brain knew better. My friend was gone. I had spoken with him just three weeks before. He asked how my son was adjusting after transferring universities and admired how mature he appeared recently.
Days later, I was still in disbelief. The same disbelief I had when my aunt passed away suddenly from cervical cancer in late summer. The same disbelief that surrounded me when my cousin was brutally murdered on his own front porch in 2025. Death has been close to me over the last year, and while I’ve been working through my grief, I am also learning profound lessons to carry me forward.
Life is incredibly short.
Time is finite, and if we’re lucky, we get 70 or 80 years of life on Earth. My grandmother and great-grandmother both lived well into their 90s. My mother is 77. Longevity at one time favored my family; however, several of my aunts, uncles, and cousins have passed away after illnesses and other circumstances at younger ages than anticipated. I don’t cling to the idea that I, too, will live into my 90s; instead, I focus on using the time I have left wisely.
Tell people I love them.
Even in mundane moments, I am committed to sharing my love with those who mean most to me. My cousin never ends our phone conversations without an “I love you.” That small gesture means the world to me, and I pass it on to friends and family so they always feel the enormous impact in those three words.
Get my affairs in order.
Several family members have passed away with no provisions in place for how to handle their assets upon their demise, or did not leave cash or insurance to cover their funeral costs. I do not want to leave my family in this position of simultaneous grief and worry about affording my final rest. I am prioritizing designating beneficiaries and creating an end-of-life plan, so my wishes are clear, and the process is uncomplicated.
When people show you who they are, believe them.
I have exercised my right to ruthlessly edit my life, including who I want to be in it. I no longer have energy for people who ignore boundaries, treat me unkindly, or disrespect me. In my life, there are no more third and fourth chances – it’s goodbye and move on.
Take the risk, embrace the unknown.
Fear has too often dictated how I move, or paralyzed me, costing me opportunities and relationships that could have altered my life’s trajectory. I refuse to linger in the space of “what if?”; instead, I ask, “why not?”, bet on myself, and take the leap.
Death is an inevitable part of life; we can’t escape it. But knowing that makes life feel more precious, more sacred. My impending death makes me feel more alive in the here and now.
Dedicated to my dear friend Hyun Kim. We love you and will miss you forever.
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