Billy Coffey
Billy Coffey

A matter of time

July 1, 2009  

I’m going to die on November 5, 2055. So says the nifty little quiz I just filled out on the internet. And though it’s hard to put much faith in the accuracy of a prediction based in part on how often I recycle (question number five), this is good information to have. Because whether the date is exact or not, the truth of it is.

One day, I’m going to die.

November 5, 2055, does seem reasonable. I’ll be eighty-three years old then, and my children will be in their late forties. I’ll most likely have grandchildren, be retired, and spend most of my days telling everyone who will listen that the world was a much better place back in 2009.

So yes, dying at eighty-three would be okay with me. That’s a good age to smile at this world and wave goodbye, right there in the meaty part between hanging around too long and not long enough.

At least, that’s what I thought. I’m not so sure now. Having forty-six years left for me to finish whatever it is I want to start seems like a lot of time, but it isn’t when you start to dig a little deeper. Trust me. Because that’s what I did.

If the scribbles on the sheet of paper in front of me are right, most of my remaining forty-six years are already spoken for. I’ll spend twelve of them sleeping, three eating, ten either exercising or resting, and another ten just on home maintenance.

All of which leaves me with a grand total of eleven years to live. One hundred and thirty-two months to make a difference.

Not a lot, is it? Especially considering the fact that November 5, 2055 is at best an approximation and at worst a clever marketing ploy designed to deluge me with junk mail. My end may come later. It may also come before I finish writing this. I don’t know.
None of us do.

Which is why it amazes me that we always think there is time. Plenty of time. There’s always tomorrow, we say. And that may be true for some of us. But not for everyone.

About 146,000 people in the world will wake up this morning thinking there’s plenty of time, not knowing this will be their last day in this life. That’s 6,098 people an hour, 102 people every minute, and about 2 per second. In the time it took you to read this paragraph, twenty people have died.

Amazing, isn’t it? Sad, too. Not because our lives must end, but because the thought of death rarely crosses our minds.

Life fools us into thinking it is this hulking, indestructible beast, when it’s really as fragile as a porcelain figurine . It is holy and sacred and fleeting and never guaranteed. Believing otherwise is not only dangerous to us, it’s dangerous to how we live.

The truth? We don’t have plenty of time. Our every breath is the oil that moves the gears of our days, sending us closer to the moment when we say goodbye to this world and hello to the next. We can’t put off chasing that dream. We can’t delay making those amends. We can’t wait to say “I love you” or “I’m sorry.”

We can’t linger when it comes to the things that make living worthwhile, the people and the dreams that give us meaning. We have to take care of them every minute, every moment. Because maybe they or we won’t be here the next.

There is no time for doubts. No time for hate. No time for hanging on when it’s time to let go and letting go when it’s time to hang on. We get one shot at this world, one chance to do something good and right and true. That time isn’t later. It’s now.

Don’t think it’s never too late. Because sometimes it is.

(This post was first published as a column by the Staunton, VA News Leader)
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Filed under: death, living, time
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Comments

  • Jennifer

    Brilliant. Standard Billy Coffey material.

  • Wendy

    Thank you, Debbie Downer. Now I'll be looking for death around every corner. DEATH!!! Oh, that's just my dog. Nevermind.

  • Annie K

    I may be one of those 'weird' people, but every time I get on a plane, or drive over the mountains I think, 'what if this is it?'. Not in a morbid way…but when I read about someone who has died, my first thought is ALWAYS 'they didn't get up this morning knowing it was their last day on earth.'

    I don't know why I think like that. I just do.

    Dang…and I figured out (based on the years and age you'll 'die' and all) that you are younger than me. Sonuva…

  • Laura

    Yikes.
    Makes me wanna go live like I were dyin'.
    But then, you make that point, don't you?
    I am dying.
    Every day, a little bit at a time; some days more than others.
    And just why I need reminded of this is a mystery to me.
    But I do.
    And I thank you, Billy.
    Sky diving? Rocky mountain climbing?
    No, not me.
    It's all about loving.
    That's what this post challenges me to do better.
    You bless, Billy.

  • Riky Dee

    I have heard those statistics before, but you know what? It is always good to remember that tomorrow is guaranteed to no man. When the last time comes when you say goodnight to your mom or dad (or whoever) and then they pass. You never get the chance to say anything to them on this side of Heaven. Don't wait to tell people what you want to say.

  • Jim H

    what Laura said.

  • sherri

    I was just having this discussion with a friend and his wife. He has colan cancer (and a 6 year old daughter) and fear and bitterness has been setting in–we started talking about how all of our days are numbered, and anyone of us could go on before him…NONE of us has the guarantee of tomorrow.

    And Annie, I think those EXACT same thoughts! DOODOODOODOO!

  • Tina Dee Books

    Thank you. If there's one thing I get here (no, there are several things) it's always perspective, and one a lot closer to heaven's than where I've been glancing from.

    So tomorrow, I pull out the novel I have tucked away. And I start rewrites. Because now IS the time, and time slips by whether I use it wisely or not.

    So thanks, very much for the great post. Today I actually have to respond to it and I know just what God's pointing to/should be.

  • Helen

    My momma used to always say goodbye to me when I left for school as if I was going off to fight in the foreign legion and she wouldn't see me for years instead of walking a mile to school and being home on time for Woody Woodpecker. She said it was because you don't know what will happen between morning and afternoon. I didn't get that until I was an adult. Now I say goodbye to my husband in the morning with a great big hug, kiss, "I love you", and a "God be with you…" because I don't know what will happen between this morning and dinner time..

  • jasonS

    How is it you talking about death still brings me joy in how you talk about it? Good stuff, billy. Thanks!

  • Denise

    This was precious, bless you.

  • Marie

    Loved this Billy. Brilliant piece of writing. Death comes to us all, sooner or later. I think I'd rather be surprised by it, and in the meantime I try to make every day count . . . as if it were my last.

  • Blessed Mom of 8

    Wonderful post Billy!

    It is what sometimes brings me to my knees – the gratefulness of being given another day! Because tomorrow is not promised my heart desires to learn all He has for me today! To stop, to listen, then to do what He is asking me. Because I want to stand before Him knowing the words He will speak is "Well done, my faithful servant."

    I figure if I live like that and be obedient each day – not worry about next week, next month and worse tomorrow I can do my best with what He has promised today!

    Blessings sweet friend!
    Jill

  • Nitewrit

    Billy,

    If you lived up in this area, you'd probably spend those other 11 years waiting in traffic.

    November 5, 2055, eh? Doesn't sound bad to me either seein' I'd be 114 then. Ain't that a scary thought, hangin' 'round this world that long. :0

    Larry E.

  • Denise

    Me-thinks I need to take this to heart! I visited Jennifer's Getting Down with Jesus' blog right before yours and she had a similar message.

    Live. Really live, now!

    So, thanks for the wise words. I am off to do some living.

    Shalom,
    Denise

  • ~*Michelle*~

    Once again Billy….you have the hair on my arms (I don't have like hairy gorilla arms, just wanted to clear that up) stand up when I read your blog. You just have this way of sharp shooting your message precisely where it needs to go.

    OK, so I make people's face distort when I tell them that I have no qualms about dying. In fact, I am looking forward to it. Of course, I put my stipulations that I hope it's quick and painless…..not big on the suffering thing. But the thought of being with Jesus just brings such comfort to me. Now don't get me wrong…..I am blessed with a beautiful family and life here on earth and I want to be here to raise my children and grandchildren, I want to grow old and get wrinkly with my husband….I have a pretty decent "bucket list" going on. But I do want to remind my family and friends that God has my "day" already in His book and if it happens sooner than later, to know that I although I will miss them very much….I will be with Him and happy too.

    oh, and btw…..this is brilliant:

    "Our every breath is the oil that moves the gears of our days, sending us closer to the moment when we say goodbye to this world and hello to the next."

  • Jo@Mylestones

    I was just about to say something like…"this reads like a column–you should publish it". And then, I saw that you'd already done so. You overachiever you.

  • Candace Jean July 16

    A few things come to mind with this beautiful post, especially after the week we've had losing a dear friend:
    1. Always kiss me good night.
    2. Never go to bed angry.
    3. Don't forget to stop and smell the flowers. And remember that many of them are edible.

    Pretty much everyone who reads your blog is younger than me. So just be nice to me, OK? It's apparent I don't have much time. I'm OK with that – like I have a choice?

  • Billy Coffey

    I think you'll be around for quite a while longer, Candace.

  • Anne L.B.

    Annie, like sherri, I think about dying all the time, probably because I've dealt with death so up close and personal many times, and my husband's job brings death to our doorstep at all hours of the days and night. I'm not morbid or fearful about it though. It just makes me want to live each day to its absolute fullest, and glorify God in every moment.

    Candace, I can't think of anything that causes me more stress than to part company or end the day on bad terms with anyone. I'll make it a point to eat some pansies today right after I take the time to smell them.

    Billy, your words are exquisite. How do you make even death so poetic?

  • Heart2Heart

    Billy,

    What a unique perspective on life today. I have always lived by the motto Carpe Diem from the movie the Dead Poets Society. It means Sieze the Day. In other words, don't put things off til tomorrow. You may not have one.

    My daughter had the surreal challenge the other day when I introduced her to a friend that just moved in on our block, her age 14. I also explained that she has a rare form of cancer that has never let anyone live past the age of 16, but based on her personality, unless you knew, you wouldn't know based on how she acts. Like a normal 14 year old.

    She was toying with the idea of getting involved with a friendship with her because of the risk she might have to face two year from now. What if we become BFF's only the last F won't count?

    I told her that only God knows when our book will end. We must live as though it could be tomorrow, that we should live with no regrets and become the best person we can be and pass along love and hope to others.

    I just smiled after that and told her that God loves a challenge to medical statistics and He may just prove them all wrong and let her live a full life.

    Just never know. God's in that business!

    Love and Hugs ~ Kat

  • Jeanne Damoff

    Yes. Every day is a gift. Every breath is grace. The way we spend our moments is the way we spend our lives. Hmmm. I should get off the computer now.

  • Joanne Sher

    Brought me to tears, AND gave me hope (and yeah, you're younger than I am too. It's okay, though. I forgive you::wink::). Definitely something I need to remember.

  • Lori

    My 17-year-old son says he loves me whenever I talk to him, because a friend of his told him a story about the 16-year-old who walked out the door to school and was killed on the way and hadn't told his mom he loved her.
    He still hugs me too. I love that.
    Keep up the God work.

  • rcubes

    I think it's hard to die not letting your loved ones know how much you love them. Saying it is easy but doing things in loving ways is much harder and easier to be taken for granted.
    Going to my workplace makes me appreciate my family and friends. Because you just don't know what will happen every minute. God bless.

  • katdish

    "Get busy living, or get busy dying."

    (You totally know who said that, don't you?)

  • Lorrie

    Good stuff Billy. Thanks!

  • The Homefront

    Wendy, you owe me coffee and a clean computer monitor. I'll be cracking up at that all day…every time my dog walks around the corner.

    Billy, it's amazing the amount of things we'd like to accomplish when we have no idea when our time is up. I like the rocks in the jar analogy: put the big ones in first, then let the small ones sift through as they're able.

    Thanks for a thoughtful post…sometimes we all need the reminder.

  • GratefulinGA

    well said Mr Coffey!

  • elaine @ peace for the journey

    My friend, Beth, is part of the 146,000 today, this day you celebrate your birthday. Her faith was made sight around 9:00 AM. She was 51. Now she is walking her eternal. I do not grieve for her; I grieve for us who are left behind to deal with her absence … who are left behind to linger with the hungering ache that cries out and longs for a better place.

    Thanks for this, Billy. Truly, we must live each day like we mean it. I'm not sure why I'm here today, but I am comforted by your words.

    peace~elaine