There’s this notion about regret on one’s deathbed being the ultimate test of whether something is worth doing or not. You’ve likely heard this variant before:
“Nobody says ‘I wish I had worked more’ on their deathbed.”
And while in this case it’s probably legit, I really don’t like this framing, because it puts my entire life—however many decades of it I get, which is four so far—at the mercy of one, arguably largely irrelevant moment.
It presumes that if that old, dying me is happy with how I’ve lived my life, then it was a life well lived. But that’s not necessarily true at all!
I admit that most of the time it’s probably fine, at least as I imagine it being used: work less and live more, worry less about money and enjoy what you have more, spend time with people you love instead of doomscrolling, etc.
In such cases, it’s pretty sound advice. Presuming the advice is truly against something I wouldn’t want to do too much of—e.g., doomscrolling—and in favor of something I would deem worthy—e.g., hanging out with awesome people—then sure, yeah, dying me would have a point, and it’d be a shame if he were correct. I should hang out with people I like instead of doomscrolling. (Arguably I should do almost anything else instead of doomscrolling, but you get the idea.)
But is older me guaranteed to be the best judge of a life well lived? Age doesn’t promise wisdom, and perception can shift over time. Older me might feel like younger me wasted a bunch of his time watching TV (even though I barely watch any), instead of, I don’t know, reading, which I don’t do much at all. And sure, by some commonly accepted understanding of the value of life, that seems noble, but I really like my occasional TV time, usually with my wife. And with everything else going on, reading rarely makes the cut, and that’s fine. Current me absolutely doesn’t want to spend less time with my favorite person.
Current me wishes younger me had ridden motorcycles more before he’d given that up. I want something I can’t have right now, so I wish I’d enjoyed it more when I could. But younger me made choices he was pretty OK with, and he didn’t really owe current me that. Younger me sometimes eschewed riding in favor of hacking on a software project, and he found that fulfilling.
I’m not so dense as to miss that the phrase is a metaphor, but I feel like it falls a bit flat. I’m assuming that deathbed scene isn’t going to be super long, and I hope I don’t dwell too much on what I could’ve/should’ve/would’ve done decades ago. I hope that moment is deserving of focus itself, or at least over swiftly. It is just one moment after all.
A life well lived has a balance of considering the future while enjoying the present. Optimizing for one singular moment doesn’t feel like living to me.
So deathbed me matters, but not more than current me.
Thanks for reading! You can keep up with my writing via the feed or newsletter, or you can get in touch via email or Mastodon.