Venturing out to somewhere new is exhilarating, and a little bit intimidating too. Before heading off, we usually do some research on the destination by reading travel guides and asking someone who has been there for advice. Unfortunately, though it is the destination that we all share, no one comes back from death to tell us what it is like on the other side. In the absence of first-hand accounts, Richard Holloway, an octogenarian and a former bishop who has spent a lifetime guiding the dying to a peaceful death and helping the bereaved, is eminently qualified to give us some tips on ageing and dying well.

Richard Holloway was born into a working class family in Scotland in 1933. At the age of 14, he entered Kelham Hall, the home of an Anglican order that trained impoverished boys for the priesthood. In the fifty years or so that followed, Holloway touched the lives of many people as he charted his journey in ministry. However, his support for same-sex marriage and women priests put him at loggerheads with proponents of the more conservative Anglican doctrines. Eventually, he resigned as Bishop of Edinburgh and head of the Scottish Episcopal Church in 2000 when he was 66. He has since written a stream of books on faith, ethics, forgiveness and the human condition. As he approaches his nineties and acknowledges that the last bus is on its way, he turns to explore how humans deal with the ultimate inevitability. His book Waiting for the Last Bus, subtitled “Reflections on Life and Death”, is the fruit of decades of deep meditation on the existential uncertainty. It gently nudges us to ponder our own eventual demise.

Holloway started going bald in his twenties. When all his attempts to save his mop proved futile, he grew to accept not only his baldness but also “the reality of the way we look and the certainty of our death”. Such acceptance does not come easy for most of us. Holloway observes that the modern society is more concerned about “the postponement of death rather than the enhancement of life”. And with increasing longevity, “life would soon become unsustainable on our little planet”. He does not understate the physical changes that come with ageing, but sees the process as no cause for resentment and bitterness. He suggests that ageing is our last chance to learn fortitude, “the ability to endure the reality of our condition without flinching”, and “courage is the wise person’s response to the fear of going”.

Still, the fear of the unknown is haunting. “To die will be an awfully big adventure,” Peter Pan tells himself when facing the danger of drowning. This is not so much a blithe disregard for death, but more like singing into the void to purge the welling fear and anxiety as one walks down a dark and eerie path. What awaits us at the end of the path? For a Buddhist, karmic reincarnation. For a Christian or Muslim, the Last Judgement. Describing himself as “a doubting priest”, Holloway confesses that he no longer desires or expects life after death. But he concedes that at times there is no room for his own doubts; what’s needed is consolation and compassion. A child’s death is one of those times. “In the moment of encounter with the dying child, theory vanishes, as well as the doubts that must accompany all theory,” he says.

A leitmotif in this life-affirming volume is to live thankfully. Be grateful for winning the lottery of life and being born a human. Be grateful for the beautiful world that receives and nurtures us. Be grateful for the love that has been given to us. Looking back, he reproaches himself for “rushing” his life and “spending too much time trying to understand life rather than just living it”. Make a confession of past mistakes to a priest, to a friend or even to your pillow and forgive yourself and others. After all, people get to play the cards they are dealt in life. Quoting the poet Derek Walcott, Holloway urges us to master early the practice of honest self-examination and reconcile with our real selves. “You will love again the stranger who was your self,” Walcott writes. “Give wine. Give bread. Give back your heart / to itself, to the stranger who has loved you.”

Walcott is among the many poets whom Holloway quotes, alongside William Shakespeare, WH Auden and Philip Larkin. It is delightful to see how the erudite author illuminates his thoughtful arguments with aphoristic gems from the greatest of English bards and with other more esoteric references. Biblical passages are cited too, as well as excerpts from the addresses he has given at funerals and weddings. Interspersed with materials from prose, novels, films, music and paintings, the book underlines a profound love of the arts. Holloway asserts with dignity that even if the universe is devoid of meaning, the great works of arts, as well as our acts of kindness “have proved ourselves better than the void that spawned us”.

Sooner or later the bus will come for us all. Keeping the end in mind will profoundly influence how we behave and what choices we make in the present. That’s why Holloway advises us to learn the many important lessons from death—such as gratitude, compassion, forgiveness and self-understanding—early in life, “while there may still be time to rewrite the script and make a happier story”. As for Holloway, happily he is still waiting at the bus stop, and indeed published a new book last year. When the bus comes along, he says, “I hope I’ll have time to lace on my boots and set out to meet it.”