When my kids were little, they asked what I do for work. Upon responding “I’m an estate planning attorney,” the follow up question came: “What’s that?” My answer: “I help people prepare to die.” Aside from being a funeral director, that has to be the creepiest career a kid could imagine. But it’s not as morbid as it sounds. To quote the Eagles song, preparing for death can actually give people “a peaceful, easy feeling.”
I’ve written about this before in my post of July 25, 2023, “What I Learned from the Deaths of my Father and Brother.” Ryan Holiday, a philosopher of Stoicism, also makes this point in “‘Memento Mori:’ The Reminder We All Desperately Need” (dailystoic.com):
“Meditating on your mortality is only depressing if you miss the point. It is in fact a tool to create priority and meaning. It’s a tool that generations have used to create real perspective and urgency. To treat our time as a gift and not waste it on the trivial and vain. Death doesn’t make life pointless but rather purposeful. And fortunately, we don’t have to nearly die to tap into this. A simple reminder can bring us closer to living the life we want. It doesn’t matter who you are or how many things you have left to be done, a car can hit you in an intersection and drive your teeth back into your skull. That’s it. It could all be over. Today, tomorrow, someday soon.”
In my work as an estate planning attorney, I’ve had a front row seat to some very reflective conversations. It’s time to contemplate the legacy you’re passing down. Legacy is about looking back and looking ahead. What is the message to your heirs?
Laurie and I experienced this in a very personal way a year ago, facing an almost certain death from drowning. We were in Cabo walking the beach, far from the water’s edge, at the turbulent mix of the Pacific Ocean and the Sea of Cortez. I wrote about it in my post, “I’m Now A Cat with Eight Lives,” (April 29, 2025).
To recap, from out of nowhere, a rogue wave crashed over us and dragged us to the ocean. We were clinging on to each other and clawing into the shifting sand with our fingers and toes. Most who are in our predicament die. Miraculously, we won the war between man and sea, thanks to some superhuman force that entered our bodies.
The episode happened fast, but we lived it in slow motion. It provided us a spiritual moment—what comes into your mind when death is imminent? Remarkably, I remember being at peace with dying. I was going away with the love of my life. Laurie wanted me to let go and save myself from being swept into the ocean while trying to save her. No way I was letting go of her!
I vividly remember being grateful for my life. I felt Adam and Lizzy were both prepared to carry on without us. It gave me peace that they are in good places with bright futures. We had done our job. I had no unfinished business. What a gift to discover that!
It’s enlightening to hear the deathbed reflections of people on the brink of dying. One of my favorites was from TV star Eric Dane who just died from ALS at age 53. He recorded a video message to his two young daughters. He begins, “I hope you won’t just LISTEN to me, but I hope you’ll HEAR me. Live now, right now, in the present. The past is regret, the future is uncertain. All we have is now. Don’t waste it.”
Another moving deathbed reflection comes from former Senator Ben Sasse, now dying of pancreatic cancer at age 54. I can identify with that death sentence, having lost both my father and brother at young ages from that dreaded disease. Sasse waxes philosophical: “He regrets ‘missing so many family dinners and Little League games’ owing to his ‘workaholism in the past.’ ‘If I had life to live all over again now, he says he would be a much serious Sabbatarian.’” (Tunku Varadarajan, “A Public Servant Faces a Public Death,” Wall Street Journal, March 13, 2026.)
Like me, Sasse’s thoughts turn to his kids, and how they’ll fare without him. His are younger, making it much harder. But he offers some parenting guidance “for how you think about raising your kids. When his daughters bickered in the past, he’d want to give them advice or de-escalate their conflict. Now, ‘I’ve given up the control…. I’m not going to be here to fix it…. There is a wisdom that comes from the humility of knowing that I can’t fix it all.’”
As for his 14-year-old son Breck who “will soon be fatherless,” he’s leaving some written guidance. “He worries that Breck could be exposed to ‘this false sense we all have of what masculinity is. Masculinity is really important, and we should cherish and encourage the best parts of it.’ There are, he warns, ‘some very stupid faux-masculinities being championed out there.’” Sasse’s written wisdom will no doubt be a valuable inheritance for his son.
The deathbed reflection can even be as simple as “Margaritaville” singer Jimmy Buffett’s final words to his wife: “Have fun!”
Let’s follow the lead of Eric Dane, Ben Sasse, and Jimmy Buffett and document a message to your heirs. It’s never too early. As Laurie and I learned, you may not have advance notice. What a gift to your family to write them a “Legacy Love Letter” (even a short one) sharing lessons learned, significant memories, and your wishes for the loved ones you’ll leave behind.
Marvin E. Blum
One year after Marvin and Laurie had a near brush with death, Marvin waxes philosophical about deathbed reflections. This peaceful photo on the beach in Cabo was only moments before a rogue wave tried to swallow them into the sea.