As my father neared the end of his 92 years, I noticed a profound and unexpected change in what was important to him. As I visited him in his room and listened to what he talked about, it became starkly obvious that the priorities that had consumed so much of his life were now so irrelevant to him that he no longer even mentioned them.

His entire set of values and priorities had shifted in his final months of life.

It has been more than a year now since he died and I have contemplated why his values changed so radically. It occurred to me that a person at the end of their life has a unique perspective that most of us do not yet have. For them, there are no more career plans to be made, ambitions have become irrelevant, and the countless daily distractions that keep us from seeing things as they really are, are no longer in the way. The end has come, and from that vantage point, the most objective evaluation of how one spent one's life can be made.

There is enormous value in spending time with the dying, listening to their last words and regrets, and noting what has become of utmost importance to them when many of the things they once dedicated their daily lives to are finally seen for their ultimate meaninglessness. By doing this, we can gain the invaluable benefit of more objectively evaluating our own lives and priorities when there is still time to make corrections—especially if we are fortunate enough to hear them speak of what their priorities should have been.

Dad had lived for 92 years. You might think that would feel like a full and long life, but it did not seem that way to him. Instead, he was shocked at how swiftly his life had passed. He was now at the end, and the “valley of the shadow of death” was now very real to him. Now he saw how short life actually is—like a breath of vapor on a cold winter’s morning.

I was surprised by the change in Dad and what now had become so important to him—I never saw it coming. It was wonderful but also sad. What was now of the greatest importance to him was expressed through three deep regrets. They moved him so profoundly that he could not speak of them without beginning to weep because he knew that his life had fled by, was spent, and there was no longer any time to make corrections for the things he now realized should have been of the greatest importance in life. It was in that context that the most powerful words my dad ever spoke were uttered:

“It happened so fast, and now it is too late!”

He realized that his priorities had been misplaced at the expense of what he should have put first in his life. They were expressed in the form of three deep regrets. I share them here with the hope that the reader may take them to heart while there is still some life left to live. I know that Dad would approve this as his last message to anyone who will listen.

First Regret

In tears, Dad said, “I wish I had treated my wife better.” From recollections of my childhood, I would say that there was still plenty of romance in my parents’ marriage for the first ten years or so. But as Dad’s vocation consumed his life six days per week, usually from dawn to dusk, along with various committees, meetings, and conferences to attend, the romance faded until it could be said that he no longer cherished his wife. Mom had died just nine months earlier on the very day of their sixty-ninth wedding anniversary. Dad now earnestly wished he had truly cherished her over all those years and right to the end, but he knew he had not, and now he deeply grieved how far he had fallen short in loving her.

Second Regret

His second great regret, which he also wept about, was: “I wish I had done more for you kids.”

There were five of us siblings. I was the oldest, with four younger sisters. I cannot recall Dad ever spending time with his daughters, except for my youngest sister after the rest of us had grown up and left home. Dad and I did spend the occasional Sunday afternoon together—maybe a few times a year. He loved stamp collecting, so as a boy, I started a small stamp collection of my own, and the two of us would work on our collections together sometimes. Also, several times, Dad and I went on Sunday afternoon hikes. But in his final months, he began to see how precious his children really were, but it was too late to spend time with them anymore and to do more for them. We tried to comfort him, assuring him that we were all doing just fine and thanking him for so faithfully providing for his family. But for Dad, he now knew it would have been so much more wonderful if he had truly valued his children over the entire course of his life.

Third Regret

When his mortal life was down to only a few more days, there was one final sorrow that grew to become the single greatest regret of his life. I last visited him several days before he died. By then, God and eternity were almost all he thought about. He deeply wished that he had lived his life in a way that was more honoring to God. Growing up, I remember Dad each Saturday night in his office, diligently preparing the lesson for a Sunday School class he taught for boys. He faithfully taught that class for many years. Just a few years ago, I met two men who told me how much they had benefitted from that class. Dad also took his various responsibilities seriously in our local rural church. Yet, now that he was about to meet God, he felt he had fallen far short of what should have been. Perhaps the end of one’s life has a way of putting things in their proper perspective and it was then that Dad knew that God and eternity should have been much more central in how he had lived his life.

Confession and Peace

I had made the four-hour flight to the city where Dad was dying to spend a few days with him just before he passed into eternity. He had fallen and broken three ribs, his collarbone, and his arm. This time, his body was not going to heal. He was in constant agony, mitigated somewhat by pain-dulling drugs, but the steady pain still showed in the strain on his face. The head nurse told me before I went into his room that there seemed to be something greatly bothering Dad and that he was afraid to let go of life.

I knew what was bothering him; his weeping regrets said it all. So I walked into his room and, as I sat by his bed, I said, “Dad, there is only one thing left to do—prepare yourself to meet God. These great regrets you have can all be forgiven and erased. Confess to God what is on your heart, and ask Him to forgive you for all the sins you have ever committed over the course of your life—great and small, both what you have done and what you have failed to do. Ask Jesus to carry you through the Valley of the Shadow of Death into the presence of God.”

As Dad and I prayed together, I was awed to see an indescribable peace come over his face; the signs of pain completely melted away. When I finished, Dad remained with his eyes closed, totally relaxed, with a look of utter peace and contentment on his face that no pain-killing drug had been successful in achieving. The nurse who witnessed this was amazed.

Dad’s Last Words for You

So, on behalf of my father, do not wait until it is too late and your life is spent before you put first what truly needs to be first. It probably seems that the end is so far in the future that it will take a lifetime before you are there—but remember: a lifetime, when it is over, will seem incredibly short. Remember Dad’s three regrets and make changes now, while there is still some life left to live so that you will not find yourself saying at the end, “It happened so fast, and now it is too late.”

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