What will you miss? What won't you? The answers may surprise you

Every November for the last 10 years I’ve taught a month-long elective course to Harvard Medical School students called "We All Have Our Stories: Literature and Medicine." In this class we use literature to make sense of some of the experiences we confront as healers: pain, loss, fear, alienation, compassion. Together we read a wide variety of short stories, poems, essays and books — everything from Kaveh Akbar’s novel “Martyr!” to Kafka’s “Metamorphosis” — then we talk, write and talk some more over a homemade meal.

As a psychiatrist, writer and avid reader, I love teaching literature. It’s a way to get at the big, unanswerable, ineffable questions that can sometimes get the short shrift in the day-to-day of medical education. This class is an opportunity for me to nurture a future generation of doctors. But they inspire me, too, showing that even in this turbulent era for health care we are training clinicians who care deeply about their patients and want to provide quality care.

One of our classes during the month is focused on identity, longing, fear, grief and healing — a tall order to cover in one week! That week, I ask them to read Victoria Chang’s stunning book of poetry, “Obit,” which explores her mother’s death and father’s illness. I assign that reading knowing many of my students have confronted death with their patients — an experience which can catalyze, as Victor Frankl says so aptly, “man’s search for meaning.”

But I also ask them to read some lighter work for our conversation: an excerpt from Nora Ephron’s “I Remember Nothing: And Other Reflections,” published in 2011, about a year before she died. Her book ends with two revealing lists: “What I Won’t Miss” and “What I Will Miss.” A few of my favorites from her “will miss” list: reading in bed, the dogwood, butter, the view out of a window, Thanksgiving. And from the “won’t” list? Mammograms, Fox News, email. Indeed.

I ask my students to generate their own versions of Ephron’s lists. While common themes have emerged over the years — the mundane frustrations that we would all like to jettison (household duties, Boston traffic, physical discomforts) — what feels particularly salient as we head into the season of darkness and the promise of light are the things that show up consistently on the “What I Will Miss” lists: closeness to each other, intimacy, comfort food and small acts of affection. A few of my favorites this year:

What I will miss

What I won’t miss

I was recently introduced to “The Pillow Book,” written by Sei Shonagon in the late 990s AD about her life in the Japanese imperial court. In the book, she compiled many lists, including “14 Hateful Things,” “16 Things that Make One’s Heart Beat Faster,” “54 Things that Give a Pathetic Impression,” “80 Things That Have Lost Their Power,” and “104 Things That One is in a Hurry to See Or to Hear.” Social media is full of listicles that aren’t all that different from what she wrote 1,000 years ago.

When I’m discussing literature with my students, making lists, or sharing a meal, I am reminded that we are, and always have been, meaning-making creatures seeking opportunities for connection. The connections can be so small yet enduring: laughing, holding hands on the train, a special meal.

I hope we can all take a moment during this busy season to quiet our minds and observe and relish the things around us. What would you miss, what would you like to leave behind? Maybe you and your loved ones can trade notes this holiday season.

You could even apply this thinking to the holiday rituals in your family. You might be surprised what you hear. I asked my family this question around Thanksgiving, and one of my daughters said she’d lose the stuffing and keep the annual turkey trot.

This could also be a moment to try out a new tradition. Last year, my daughter’s partner suggested we try a book swap, and share a book that was meaningful to us during the year before. It got me thinking about which book would be highest on my “What I’ll Miss” list this year. I’m debating between “Moby Dick” (I took a short course on this monstrous whale), “Gaga Mistake Day” (a favorite playful picture book to read to my grandchildren), or “A Tale for the Time Being” (an epic journey that captures a complex world that’s at once ephemeral and infinite, serious and funny, harsh and comforting).

What else is on my list? Teaching, of course, which gives me hope for the future. I hope that this season we all find enduring hope, a book we enjoy and gratitude for the small things that fill our lives.