For most of my adult life, I have been maniacally focused on my work. I would answer emails instantly during the day, and even get up twice each night to ensure that all the emails were answered. Yes, I would spend time with my family members—but just so they didn’t complain, and not an hour more.
Then in September 2013, I was diagnosed with fourth-stage lymphoma. I faced the real possibility that my remaining time on Earth would be measured in months. As terrifying as that was, one of my strongest feelings was an instant, irretrievable, and painful regret. As Bronnie Ware’s book about the regrets of people on their deathbeds all too accurately describes, I was wracked with remorse over not spending more time sharing love with the people I cared about most.