The holiday season for many people is not joyous; there’s too much shopping with too little money and family and friends living in different states. But, we have to stop for a moment and reflect on all the wonderful things we have to be thankful for. I know it’s an old cliché, but the two books I read recently prove how your life can change in an instant, and how important it is to live each day in the moment as though it were your last.

How Starbuck’s Saved My Life: A Son of Privilege Learns to Live Like Everyone Else, by Michael Gates Gill

Michael Gates Gill was an only child, born into a family of privilege. His parents were wealthy, but had no time for him, so he was raised by nannies. Until the age of 10, Michael couldn’t read, which angered and embarrassed his parents. But his teacher knew he had promise; she gave him a note that read “Michael Gates Gill is destined to be great.” With her encouragement, Michael excelled in his school work and went on to graduate from Yale in 1963. Upon graduation, he was immediately hired as a copywriter for a prestigious advertising firm in New York City.

Michael had a gift; he knew how to effectively relate to people. When he was asked to make a presentation to the Joint Chiefs of Staff, he decided he had to relate to military men with the proper tool: a weapon. At the presentation, he took out a bow and arrow and aimed at a target across the room. The audience of stern faces was quiet. He aimed and shot — bulls eye! Everyone applauded and his firm won the account. It wasn’t long before he was promoted to Creative Director and Executive Vice President, and his major clients included Ford, Burger King, Christian Dior, IBM and the U.S. Marine Corps.

Michael worked hard and fast, but he managed to squeeze in a marriage and father four children. He helped others to move up in the firm; but when a hostile bid was made for his company, the people he mentored turned on him. After thirty-five years of faithful and successful service, the new, young, and aggressive owners terminated him with a severance package of one week’s pay for every year of service.

To add to his downward spiral, Michael had an affair, which resulted in the birth of his fifth child, Jonathan. His wife divorced him and he was forced to move out of the house. At 63, Michael had little hope of finding a new job. With children in college and his young son to support, Michael decided to do some consulting work, but it wasn’t enough to pay the bills. He had to face reality: his father had squandered all the family’s money and couldn’t help, and Michael was too old to find work with any major corporation. In his state of anxiety, ambivalence and forced humility, he walked into a Starbuck’s store for a latte.

As Michael sat at the table drinking his latte, a young African-American female with the name tag “Crystal” asked, “Are you here for a job?” At first, he thought she was joking. Why would someone dressed in a designer suit with a leather briefcase look like he needed work? But, Starbuck’s was having a job fair that day and without thinking, he replied, “Yes, I am.” He wasn’t sure why he said that, but then he remembered something his old boss at the advertising firm told him, “Fear is a great motivator.” There was no doubt Michael was fearful; he had to get a job so he could pay his bills. At the time he was hired, he thought his abilities were far above what was needed to work at Starbuck’s, but he soon realized that his abilities were far below those required in his new job.

Michael was never good with numbers, so using the cash register terrified him. Instead, he chose to do the cleaning. He emptied trash and scrubbed bathrooms, and when his day was over, he took the hour and a half ride train ride home to his small apartment. Soon after, he started getting headaches. His doctor performed an MRI and determined that he had a tumor. But, Michael couldn’t afford an operation; he needed to wait until his insurance with Starbuck’s kicked in. He postponed the operation for six months.

During the first few months at Starbuck’s, Michael learned a lot about respect and humility. In the past, he had prejudged everyone who applied at his advertising firm, but no one at Starbuck’s judged him. It didn’t matter if you were a customer or a co-worker, you were treated with respect. One day, when Michael refused bathroom access to a homeless person, Crystal told him, “Never refuse the bathroom to anyone. He might not be a customer, but everyone who walks in that door is a guest.” When a late-night customer refused to leave, he remembered what Crystal had said, “Don’t touch any of the guests to make them leave.” But Michael’s “take control” attitude kicked in, and the belligerent customer pulled a knife in response to Michael’s insistence that he leave. One of his co-workers jumped in and handled the situation and no one was hurt.

Over time, Michael’s humor and natural ability to relate to people made him popular with the customers and his co-workers; his marketing experience helped Crystal with her presentations; and his knowledge of coffee put him in charge of coffee tasting events. Michael wanted to let his co-workers know how much he appreciated their help, but he had always been told by his previous employer never to praise anyone for fear of a lawsuit if the person was subsequently fired. But, at Starbuck’s, he could, so he sent thank you notes to all his co-workers.

Michael’s children visited the store often, and when they saw how happy their father was, they were happy for him. Michael would never make the kind of money he had made in the past, but he felt that he was finally in a work environment “that valued those precious moments of truly human interaction.” Starbuck’s had saved his life in more ways that he could imagine. Most importantly, his six-month visit to the doctor revealed that his tumor had stopped growing, which Michael may argue is a result of his new life.

Chasing Daylight: How My Forthcoming Death Transformed my Life, by Eugene O’Kelly with Andrew Postman

Eugene Kelly had it all — happily married for 27 years to Corinne, two beautiful daughters, and financial success as CEO of a major American firm, KPMG. But, Gene lived a fast-paced life; he traveled extensively, worked long hours, took no vacations, and spent very little time with his wife and children.

Gene considered himself to be healthy, but at age 53, he noticed that the right side of his face was sagging, as though he’d been dosed with Novocain. He thought perhaps he was under too much stress and fatigue and that the sagging was probably Bell’s palsy. But, Corinne felt a sense of foreboding and anxiety; she felt like “their life as they knew it was about to disintegrate.”

On May 24, 2005, Gene went to a neurologist. He was not in pain, but he was concerned about his face sagging. His doctor ordered an MRI, which showed that the right side of his brain was normal, but the left side looked milky with numerous white dots and lines. After performing a biopsy, the doctor confirmed that Gene had three golf ball-sized tumors and many small ones covering the left side of his brain. The diagnosis was Glioblastoma Multiforme (Grade IV Astrocytoma), which was inoperable; the prognosis was that he had three months to live.

Gene couldn’t understand why he never had pain, but his doctor said it wasn’t unusual; his type of tumor could infiltrate the brain extensively before symptoms appeared. Gene wondered if death could be approached constructively like every other phase of life. He resolved to step down as CEO of KPMG and choose a medical protocol that would allow him to make the remainder of his life as best as possible for himself and those most affected by his situation. Two weeks later, he stepped down as CEO of KPMG. The following day, he had a seizure.

The seizure lasted for a half hour, but it was just facial twitching, not as serious as a Grand mal seizure. Within a few days of the diagnosis, the tumors pressed on his visual cortex, his vision blurred, and he suffered major vision loss. He had trouble spelling words and his speech was garbled. His doctor suggested chemotherapy, but after three treatments, Gene realized it was interfering with his liver and kidney functions; he opted to quit chemotherapy and receive radiation instead.

At this point, Gene realized that he had to start living in the moment and not think about the future. He changed his physical and dietary habits; but because he had lived such a fast-paced life, it was difficult to slow down and focus on what was most important: he needed closure with everyone in his life.

Gene made a list of everyone he wanted to contact for “closure.” His long list of family, friends and colleagues totaled 1,000. Beside each name, Gene noted how they met; what made them become friends; what that person’s qualities were; the lessons Gene learned from that person; and how that person made Gene become a better person. Most importantly, he wanted each person to know what he considered their “perfect moment.” Everyone was grateful and touched by how he remembered the little things that so many of them had forgotten. Gene commented to his wife that he had experienced more perfect moments and perfect days over a two-week period than he had experienced in the last five years. “The present felt to me life a gift,” he said. He made plans for his funeral — who would organize the Irish funeral; who would give the eulogy; what would be done with his remains; and words he would write to Corinne, Marianne and Gina that he had never been able to say when he was alive.

After six weeks of radiation, the doctor told Gene that the tumors had shrunk a little and felt he could go on a vacation. Their plan was to fly to Lake Tahoe and then on to Prague. While in Lake Tahoe, Gene began to transition himself to a different world. His perfect moment was “to taste as much of the flavor that life is constantly offering.” He tried, but the harbingers of death were persistent; he was having more frequent episodes and was getting weaker every day. Gene said to his wife, “You’re going to have to take over now. I’ve done all I can do.”

The final chapter of the book is written by Corinne. While still at Lake Tahoe, Gene had a seizure and was rushed to the hospital. The next day, Gene recalled that he had no pain and said he wasn’t frightened anymore, but he couldn’t make the trip to Prague. They flew home and admitted Gene to Sloan-Kettering. During his stay, he had a seizure precipitated by a pulmonary embolism. He developed pneumonia and was very weak. His appetite was gone, but when his doctors wanted to do a sonogram of his stomach, Gene said, “No more tests.”

Gene read somewhere that to die in peace you had to first accept that you are dying. He told his wife, “I’ve had a great life.” Because Corinne had helped dying patients in her work, the clearest message she was able to give Gene was one she had told so many others: When motivated by fear, you’re not able to see the best path — whether in life or in dying.

On Monday, September 5, Gene stopped asking for food or water. “I think tonight’s the night I will die,” he said to Corinne. But he didn’t die; his heart was still strong.

On Thursday, September 8, Gene declined to take medication. His doctor told Corinne that many patients with brain tumors experience “terminal restlessness” or “end-stage restlessness,” which is an agitated state that usually requires medication. “But,” the doctor said, “your husband isn’t agitated. He’s peaceful.” That afternoon, a visitor stopped by and asked Gene, “Is this transition? Are you in a good place?” Gene said, “Yes. I’m in a great place. I feel supported by the other side.” Then he opened his eyes wide and said, “Please tell them that there is no pain between this side and the other side.” Later, when his family was at his bedside, he looked up and said, “That’s the most beautiful sight in the world.”

That evening, Corinne was alone with Gene. He said, “I can’t find the river. I can connect with you and I can connect with God’s love, but I have trouble staying connected to the river. You can easily connect to the river. Stay connected to the river and I will stay connected to you and God and I can find my way.” Corinne had no idea what he was talking about.

On Friday, Sept. 9, Gene was still struggling with connecting to the river. In the afternoon, he asked that his legs be raised twenty degrees and his head forty degrees, saying “The body you come in with is connected to the water. When it leaves, it wants to be in this position…it would be best for leaving the body.” When Corinne asked him where he got the idea, he said “It just seems right.”

Corinne knew that Gene was worried about leaving her, so she asked him if he was ready to leave. Gene said, “I think so.” Corinne told him not to hang on and assured him that she’d be okay. He had entered his final stage of transition and was ready to go. He died on Saturday, September 10, 2005.

For Corrine, she was grateful that Gene felt no pain; that he died peacefully; and he was able to enjoy closure and perfect moments with almost everyone he knew and loved. In the last three months of his life, Gene had learned five important lessons, which he wanted to share with everyone: face reality; simplify your life; live life in the moment; recognize perfection; and achieve balance.

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Reviews done by Sharon Lea Hill