A single parent with three adult children scattered across three states, Irv had done what responsible people do. He had a will. He had filled out and signed Five Wishes. He had talked openly about the end, the moment people tend to picture when they think about planning.
But the truth was simpler, and also more complicated: Irv had planned for dying. He had not planned for living.
He had not pictured the far more likely stretch of years—perhaps twenty or even twenty-five—when he might still be very much alive but navigating illness, recovery, or the slow erosion that aging sometimes brings. His children could honor his wishes in the final hours, but none of them knew what he would want in the long middle.
In that moment, the scenario felt real to him, and he suddenly saw the gap. His children knew how he wanted to die. They did not know how he wanted to live.
Through the Game Plan process, Irv began to articulate the part of himself he had never put into words: the shape of a life worth sustaining.
Being that Adele and I hashed out many of the guardrails and guidelines the kids will need to know, they now understand what I see or foresee as the worst kind of future - a long, drawn-out decline either at home or in an institution. – Now I feel pretty good that they can make the right decisions on my behalf. We joke and tease about it because I am so healthy and fit at this time (73 years old). They are aware of my overall philosophy of life....and death. So I feel pretty good so far. - Irv
Irv and his children summiting Kilimanjaro