When I first began writing Reaching the End of Life, I didn’t know where it would take me—only that I was being pulled toward it, like a tide that had already made up its mind. I’ve lived a full life, seen great joy and deep loss, watched loved ones take their final breath, and quietly wondered about my own. This book is my attempt to make sense of the final stretch, not as a clinical observer or detached philosopher, but as a fellow traveler who knows the road ahead is one we all must walk.

This isn’t a book about dying—it’s about living with the truth of our mortality. I speak openly, sometimes tenderly, sometimes bluntly, about the emotional, spiritual, and even practical dimensions of preparing for death—whether it's your own or someone you love. I reflect on the quiet moments I’ve shared with my mother in her final days, the awkward silences at funerals, and the unexpected comfort of dark humor when nothing else seems to help. I write about regrets and reconciliations, about the strange beauty that can exist in letting go, and how love often shows up in its purest form when time is running out.

This book doesn’t promise answers. I’m not a priest, a doctor, or a guru. But I am someone who has sat by the bedside, wrestled with grief, and found peace in unexpected places. I've asked the unanswerable questions. I’ve tried to make friends with impermanence.

Reaching the End of Life is written for anyone who’s ever feared death, who’s cared for someone who’s dying, or who simply wants to approach the subject with more honesty and less fear. It’s part memoir, part philosophical inquiry, part practical guide. But more than anything, it’s a companion—a voice in the quiet that says, you’re not alone.

Because in the end, none of us are.