I'd rather have two months more

About a week ago, one of the most important figures in the Canadian business world, Mr. Robert K. Irving, died. And even though I never had the chance to meet him personally, his death left me thinking far more than I expected.

It is strange how the disappearance of someone so distant can suddenly open questions that feel incredibly close.

I understand what he represented inside the organization I currently work for. He was not only one of the heirs to one of the country’s greatest family fortunes, but also the CEO of the regional businesses in the metropolitan area of Moncton.

He was only 71 years old, and an illness he battled during the final days of his life eventually imposed itself over the man. And that makes me wonder what the true purpose really is behind achieving so much success and so much wealth in life.

Seventy-one years feels painfully short for the endless amount of opportunities someone with such resources could have had. It seems unbelievable to me and forces me to place many things into perspective, especially considering that I do not even dream of reaching those levels of power.

The value of life exists completely outside human understanding; of that I am beginning to have no doubts. And because something so immense is impossible to fully comprehend, I end up feeling a strange kind of mercy toward myself in the face of the ignorance that, I believe, engulfs all humanity.

We get distracted far too easily by things that hold no real value or meaning, while leaving aside what truly matters. Understanding that life is slipping away minute by minute can bring us back to earth, but damn, it is a difficult truth to hold onto without getting lost once again inside routine.

How much would a man with such fortune have paid for just two more months of good health, knowing what was approaching? How much?

And if he had known long before what his inevitable ending would be, would he have changed anything? Would he have worked less? Would he have lived differently? Would he have loved better?

I would have loved to meet him in order to understand many things I have never seriously analyzed in my life, such as my own possibilities if I ever possessed the capacity to exercise plutocracy. To better understand the silent poison that comes with overwhelming amounts of capital.

I remember a conversation I had years ago with some friends about Lionel Messi’s salary in Paris. We were making absurd calculations about how much money he could earn every second during a regular workday with the team. Man, that is absolutely nothing compared to the income someone like Mr. Robert K. could generate. And yet, beyond the mathematical curiosity of it all, I have never truly admired something like that.

So then, when do we stop?

Today, while working at one of his companies in Moncton, I met a man named Russel, the plant’s maintenance manager. Looking at him, I would say he must already be near retirement age and, while he spoke, it was obvious how genuinely happy he is with his role and responsibilities. The man appears to possess an admirable physical condition and an emotional stability that is difficult to ignore.

During the conversation he said something simple:

—I will never retire.

And at that exact moment, I immediately thought about the man who had just died.

That was when I realized that perhaps both men had found completely different answers to the same question. One built a gigantic empire; the other seems to have built a life he still enjoys waking up to every morning.

In this strange game, who is actually right? What is the correct balance? When should someone say, “This is where I stand”? When should one decide to radically change their life by choice instead of waiting for external forces — illness, or even a layoff — to suddenly destroy the comfort zone they built around themselves?

I do not know.

But I do know I must prepare myself to someday make that choice on my own. To avoid living like a hibernating animal; like a squirrel endlessly storing seeds and nuts without knowing which winter will be the last one: the one that just passed or one of the many still yet to come.

Because perhaps the real tragedy is not dying, but realizing far too late that we never truly stopped postponing life.

Life is terribly short and resources are limited.

Choose.