“We are all in the process of dying,” my friend said, dropping this tidbit of reality on me with the same air of casualness that one might comment on the weather. I was probably in my mid to late twenties when he and I had one of our many conversational debates about something or other, and he’d often raise this point to me. Death was not in the forefront of my mind much then. In fact, as I recall my twenties, I was probably more focused on paying my rent, finishing graduate school, and living out my purpose in life than I was in facing the fact that I was dying.