The Book I Needed the Day My Mom Died
Hi there, friend —
A few hours after I got the call about my mom’s passing, I boarded a flight home.
Numb. Tired. Hollow.
I didn’t know what to do with the grief in my chest.
So I grabbed a book off my shelf.
I needed to hear from someone who had been close to death.
Someone who trafficked in truth instead of clichés.
That book was When Breath Becomes Air, by Paul Kalanithi.
Paul was a young, brilliant neurosurgeon — full of life, facing the reality of death.
In his final months, he wrote with startling clarity about what it means to live fully, even while dying.
He placed himself right in the center of paradox:
Life and death
Science and faith
Tangible and intangible
It’s raw. It’s unflinching.
And when Paul ran out of time, his wife, Lucy, finished the book with a final chapter that undoes me every time I read it.
I cry every time I read that epilogue.
What struck me most wasn’t Paul’s courage — though he had plenty to spare.
It was his humility.
He wasn’t searching for a silver lining.
He was struggling — sincerely, spiritually — toward truth.
A CEO once told me:
“The best advice I ever received was to listen to the business — it will tell you what it needs.”
The same is true of life.
The truth rarely shouts. It whispers.
And it often comes from unexpected places.
Health Is the Crown Only the Sick Can See
If you have health, you have hope.
And if you have hope, you have everything.
We forget that.
We move through our days like time is endless and vitality is guaranteed.
But Paul reminds us — time isn’t a given.
And health is sacred.
Cherish your health while you have it.
Seize the day while you still can.
In family businesses, we spend so much time planning for the future.
But none of it matters if we miss the moment we’re in.
Are You Living a Life of Virtue?
There’s a moment in the book I always come back to.
Paul’s attending physician (who was also his teammate) once said:
“I knew Paul was living a good life. A virtuous life.”
That sentence stuck with me.
I don’t share this to make you cry.
I share it to pose a question:
Are you living in such a way that your teammates would say the same about you?
Would they see the quiet virtue in how you show up — when no one’s watching?
I aspire to live like that.
With purpose. With consistency. With love.
Love Is What Transcends
The final pages of the book — written by Lucy — remind us that Paul’s love didn’t die when he did.
It carried on.
That’s the essential ingredient in anything built to last:
Love.
Love for your work.
Love for your people.
Love for the next generation.
Because love transcends.
And whatever love touches — it lasts.
Paul Kalanithi was a steward.
He didn’t get to finish his story.
But he left the world better than he found it.
That’s all any of us can hope to do.
To serve our families.
Our teammates.
Our marketplace.
And our higher power — with integrity and intention.
To live in such a way that what we build will always see tomorrow.
Onward,
Matt