“Jimmy Buffett passed away peacefully on the night of September 1st, surrounded by family, friends, music, and dogs. He lived his life like a song until the very last breath.”

The announcement that rocked the 🦜 heads.

That was the announcement that rocked Parrot Heads around the world on September 2nd. (Jimmy's most ardent fans were known as Parrot Heads.)

Buffett was an American icon. He leaves behind a body of work that is a testament to a life well-lived: years and years of experiences told through lyrics and melodies spanning decades. While never known for his poetic lyrics, he leaves behind treasures such as, “I Wish I Had a Pencil Thin Mustache” and, of course, “Why Don’t We Get Drunk and Screw?” C’mon, don’t act like you don’t know every single word.

At one time or another, most of us have been transported by his music. Most of us have dreamed of throwing it all away, escaping to the islands, to a change in latitude, far from the day-to-day struggles of an ordinary life. We’ve imagined being transported to a place where Caribbean sunshine welcomes us every day, where we find one particular harbor echoing with steel drums, the smell of jerk chicken in the air, bottomless Rum drinks, and ice-cold Tuborg beer at the bar. Then, the song ends and we are back to reality. That’s the magic of Jimmy Buffett.

To be sure, we will miss Jimmy’s music and his unique spirit.

If I’m being honest, there’s something in the photo below that announced his passing that touched me. I suppose it’s seeing Jimmy doing what he loved in his last few days on earth. Sailing in an old, wooden boat, arm on the rail, hand on the tiller, eyes on the horizon, sailing off into the sunset. Dressed in foul weather gear, with an eye on the horizon— pensively anticipating his next chapter.

Or, perhaps it’s the weathered look of quiet contentment on his face, as if he knew his time was drawing near. Do you see it?

After all those years of singing about escaping the rat race and sailing the islands and fishing the pilings, it turns out that the father of escapism really did have the sea in his veins. “As the son of a son of a sailor,” he really did go “out on the sea for adventure.” How refreshing that it wasn’t all make-believe.

“Mother, Mother Ocean, I have heard your call. Wanted to sail upon your waters, since I was 3 feet tall.”

I get the sense Jimmy had thought long and hard about his final days. He had cancer and was not well. I’m betting he envisioned going out exactly as he did, with family, friends, and dogs at his bedside—with music in his ears and joyful voices in the air.

All this raises an important question:

**How do you want to die?**

Would you prefer it to be a complete surprise or a long, drawn-out affair; a painless accident, or a peaceful and calm drifting away with your mind quieted by the images of memories created with the people who love you most? Jimmy Buffet passed away at home, “surrounded by family, friends, music, and dogs.” How fitting.

Take a minute to ponder how you want to go out. We’ll wait…

Okay, let me guess—all this talk about death is making you a little uncomfortable. (Some of you probably stopped reading already…you know who you are.)

“It’s been a lovely cruise.”

In pre-modern times, death was a common part of everyday life. It was familiar. People died at much younger ages. It was usually caused by an infectious disease like Pneumonia, Tuberculosis, or really, any kind of contagious illness.

Today, we’ve cured most of the stuff that used to be lethal, so people don’t often die as young, and death, in general, is infrequent. The infrequency of death makes the subject strange and uncomfortable, which is why talking about it is disquieting for us. It’s wholly unfamiliar.

In the words of Tim Keller, “Death is an abstraction to us, something technically true but unimaginable as a personal reality.”

Even people with deep faith are rattled by existential questions about their own demise. Sure, we can talk about our eventual dying and our deep faith that assures us that we will go to heaven, that we will be reunited with those who’ve passed before us, and that we will avoid the fiery damnation of hell. Yet, even with those assurances, it’s a tricky subject.

Just imagine walking up to someone at a cocktail party and asking, “So, how do you want to die?” Or, “How much time do you think you have left?” These days, someone is likely to call the police.

“Wrinkles will only go where the smiles have been...”
Jimmy Buffett

I bet the person who would call the police is following my podcast on Spotify, Apple iTunes, iHeart Radio, or wherever they get their podcasts. See what I did there?

Part of living is contemplating how you want to die. A Living Will is a legal document outlining your treatment preferences in the event that you are incapacitated.

“Some of it’s magic, some of it’s tragic, but I had a good life all the way.”
Jimmy Buffett
(A Pirate Looks at 40)

Without a Living Will, your family’s final memory of you might be doctors jamming a breathing tube down your throat, violently breaking your ribs with CPR compressions, and shocking your body numerous times. Not a great final memory of PeePaw’s last day on earth.

“It’s been a lovely cruise.”
Jimmy Buffett

Theoretically, the Living Will provides guidance and direction to the hospital and to your family members. However, it’s woefully inadequate.

Imagine a life-and-death decision having to be made in the hospital. Your family is gathered around the bed, trying to interpret a complicated medical scenario and understand legal terms like “a high degree of medical certainty” and “irreversible condition.” Everyone is tired and emotional and anxious; it’s a recipe for a lifetime of guilt and worry if things don’t go as planned, and they rarely do.

So, what do you prefer? Do you prefer heroic measures and last-ditch efforts to save your life, like CPR and intubation? Would you want to pursue every possible clinical pathway to life, regardless of the drastic nature of the procedure or the quality of life that might result? Do any of your people know your preferences?

The Conversation Project® is a public engagement initiative of the Institute for Healthcare Improvement (IHI). The goal is both simple and transformative—to help people openly discuss dying and document their personal preferences.

The following is an excerpt from a letter written by a Conversation Project participant to her family.

Dear Kiddos:
…..first of all…don’t Panic. It’s okay. If you are faced with a decision you’re not ready for it’s okay. I want to let you know what I want for various circumstances, but if you come to something we haven’t anticipated, it’s okay. And, if you come to a decision point and what you decide results in my death, it’s okay. You don’t need to worry that you caused my death—you haven’t. I will die because of my illness or my body failing or whatever. You need not feel responsible. Forgiveness is not required, but if you feel bad/responsible/guilty, first of all don’t. And, second of all you are loved and forgiven.
If you’re faced with a snap decision—don’t panic: choose comfort, choose home, choose less intervention, choose to be together at my side, holding my hand, singing, laughing, loving, believing and carrying on. I will keep loving you and watching you and being proud of you.
Love, Mom

Fittingly, Jimmy Buffett met his wife Jane in Key West, Florida in 1977. She was on spring break from the University of South Carolina. They moved in together shortly thereafter. The Buffets were married for 46 years and had three children together—a rare thing in an industry full of broken marriages. True Parrot Heads know that he wrote one of his biggest hits just after they met.

“Come Monday, it'll be all right
Come Monday, I'll be holdin' you tight
I spent four lonely days in a brown L.A. haze
And I just want you back by my side.”

According to Jane, Jimmy’s last words to her were, “Have fun”. She described their final hours together as “a beautiful goodbye.” How fitting that Jimmy died how he lived, surrounded by friends and family with music in his ears.

“Oh, yesterdays are over my shoulder, so I can’t look back for too long. There’s just too much to see waiting in front of me, and I know that I just can’t go wrong.”

Alrighty, let’s revisit the four main points we’ve learned here. First, it’s clear that we are wholly uncomfortable with the topic of our own death. Take a minute to contemplate what the ideal end of your life might look like. Where are you? Who is there? Are you more interested in heroic measures and last-ditch efforts to save your life, like CPR and intubation, or would you prefer to let nature take its course, comfortable in your own bed, surrounded by family, friends, music and pets? Second, be sure to share your personal preferences with those closest to you, preferably in writing; the Conversation Project® can help with that. Third, establish a Living Will to legally prescribe your preferences. Lastly, go pull up some of Jimmy Buffet’s greatest hits. His music is magical in its ability to transport us to a happier place and time—a paradise of cheeseburgers and family, of friends, laughter, and music. And, of course, a really good margarita.

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With Family, Friends, Music, & Dogs

**How do you want to die?**

© Tom Greene 2023. All Rights Reserved.