Welcome
The Checkout Line is the first of its kind: a tri-weekly advice column for the dying and, as important, for those close to them. A chance to re-arrange the future.
As luck would have it, we are the only creatures on earth who have complete awareness of the brevity of life, and what happens when that life draws to a close. What we do with that knowledge is what makes us extraordinary.
These days dying can be a lengthy, drawn-out event that might take months or years. In most instances this extra time is a bonus (although, I fully realize, perhaps not quite the bonus we all yearn for). Still it has its advantages. It gives the dying time to reflect and make certain decisions critical to their own well-being and that of those they love. I call this process “controlling destiny”, because that is just what it does.
The extra time also gives relatives and friends of the dying a chance to exert control. Recognizing that someone you love is dying – a parent, spouse, lover, sibling, co-worker or dear friend – allows you to alter situations and relationships in ways that would have once seemed inconceivable. You can’t change the past. But you can patch up longstanding quarrels. You can perform small chores. You can reinforce love. You can offer understanding.
Above all, you can listen. This is a rare gift, which the dying seem to want most of all, and tragically, don’t often get. I happen to be a professional listener, a longtime journalist for Vanity Fair magazine, who also works as a hospice volunteer. And I want to hear your questions. Lots of them. In return I will provide clear common sense advice from my own experience as well as from the wisdom of those professionals with whom I’m in contact: medical specialists, lawyers, hospice workers, the critically ill and the healthy. Nothing will be out of bounds (except medical advice which I am not qualified to give). Changes in wills, loneliness, pain, spousal resentment, fear, denial – bring it all on.
You don’t have to give your real name if doing so is unsettling. I understand. We are all standing on The Checkout Line, the only place nobody tries to push his way to the front. But if you’re already there – or you know someone who is – then ask away.
I’m here.











