One of my goals this year is to write more regularly. I understand that more doesn’t mean better but I think the habit is worth instilling.

I’m a bit flummoxed today because a former colleague (I wish I could say friend but we just aren’t that close and we only worked together for about two years) just announced that he has a brain tumor. While I greatly look forward to his writing on how he deals with this new life context it also gives me pause as I reflect my own mortality.

The weirdness about me writing this post is that his primary reason for sharing his foreboding news was to share his candid thoughts about talking to cancer victims:

I’m more than happy to tell you in excruciating detail what kind of cancer I have, why cancer happens and what my prognosis is (not at the moment though because I have no idea as yet). I might shed a few tears while explaining but I’m OK with that as long as you are. You can cry too if you like. If that’s not your thing, that’s OK. Let’s find something else to talk about.

I’m comforted by believing that he “gets it” with respect to valuing his time on earth. He isn’t preoccupied by promises of the life beyond our mortal existence. I trust he will make the most of whatever time he has. The people around him will know they are loved. Maybe the pre-cognition will be a boon for him, something the rest of us can hope for so that we can maximize our time remaining.