What do we know when we know it's coming to an end?

Editor's note: This is a reworking of a piece I wrote more than four years and two websites ago. I'm not sure why it is we become more reflective as calendar years end, but we do.

What would you do if you knew you had a year to live?

Would you walk away from all your responsibilities and spend 12 months doing everything on your "bucket list?"

Would you do things that previously scared you too much, like bungee jumping or hang gliding, or would you double down on your efforts to make sure everything you needed to do was finished before you ran out of time?

You might think that last year would be all for you, but very few people actually see it that way. Most folks live their lives the way they always have ... for as long as they can.

What would you do if you had a month to live?

Make sure your finances were in order? Take one last shot at trying to hook up with the love of your life? Go on one last vacation?

Would you spend a lot of time regretting the things you never did, or would you take pride in the things you managed to get done?

Although those 30 days would pass quickly, for a lot of us, routine would hold sway at least until the last couple of days.

What would you do if you had a week to live?

A week isn't all that long. Seven days, 168 hours ... you'd spend a good chunk of it just sleeping. But what about the time you're awake?

A week might be devoted mostly to saying goodbye, both to the people and places that have made up your life. Some fun, but probably not so much.

What would you do if you had a day to live?

A day isn't much, but I think you might try to stretch it by not sleeping. If you had 24 hours, my guess is you would try to squeeze as much living as possible into that time. I doubt you'd want to spend much of the time traveling.

There might be some place that you still want to see, but losing time getting there wouldn't be much fun. You might just want to spend that last day with someone you love.

In a wonderful 1998 Canadian film, Don McKellar's "Last Night," a group of people in Toronto know that the world is ending at midnight. Most of them look for people with whom to spend their final hours.

That's very human.

What would you do if you had an hour to live?

I know I would want to spend that time with the folks I love most -- my wife, my children and my grandchildren. If any part of me lives on after my death, it will be in the effect I have had on their lives and the lives of the other people close to me.

I wouldn't spend a lot of time giving them advice. In fact, I don't think I would do much talking. I would rather look at them and listen to them, memorizing their faces and voices to carry with me into eternity.

What would you do if you had a minute to live?

 A minute can be the blink of an eye ... or an eternity.

But if I knew I were about to die, I would spend the final 60 seconds praying. I would thank God for everything He has given me and I would ask His blessing and continued guidance for the people I love. I think I could make that minute stretch long enough to get that done.

Have you noticed what's missing in all of this, whether a final year or a final minute?

Anger.

Hatred.

Revenge.

Some folks do spend time regretting things left undone or things poorly done, but not many people go to their death cursing old wrongs. I doubt that even Richard Nixon spent his final moments thinking of those folks on his "enemies list."

Life is a precious gift.

There used to be a sculpture in the United Nations building -- I don't know if it still exists or not -- with a caption on it.

"It is a privilege to live this day and the next."

It really is.