I treasure the time I spend with close friends and I’ve come to understand lately that you never know which visit could be the last. A friend of mine, Joe Denyeau, who, like Keresty, died way too young, used to tell a story about the bitter end of his Wall Street career. Joe had worked there from his early twenties into his late thirties.

One of his brothers had been ill with terminal cancer, and Joe spent a lot of time with him during the last days of the illness. All the while, he was working sixty hours a week on Wall Street.

At his brother’s funeral, Joe got an urgent call from his Wall Street office. His boss demanded that he return to work immediately. I know there’s a tough-guy, take-no-prisoners culture at a lot of successful companies. I get it. But to me, that isn’t culture. It’s boorish greed, and I hate it with a passion that burns deep.

Instead of returning to his job, Joe went back into the church. He sat down with his wife and family. After the service, he told his wife, Anne, about the phone call. Then he told her something else—his Wall Street career was over. True to his word, and himself, Joe quit his job at Lehman Brothers the next day.

Not too long ago, Sue and I attended the funeral of our friend Steve Bowen. Steve’s two sons gave emotional but also funny eulogies. Their words were totally appropriate. Steve would’ve approved, even applauded his boys’ good work, their storytelling.

Then the parish priest got up and talked about Steve. This priest had been married at one time. When his wife died, he’d joined the priesthood. (Yes, it’s allowed.) The priest’s eulogy wasn’t one of those deflating messes cobbled together with mismatched platitudes and Bible quotes. This priest knew his subject well. And he told a classic Bowen story.

He said that near the end for Steve, he had gone to visit him at Dana-Farber in Boston. The priest got to the door of Steve’s room. And he stopped dead in his tracks. Steve was staring at him from his hospital bed. Now, Catholics are really into the afterlife and heaven. That’s important to the story. Steve kept staring at the priest, pointed a rigid finger at him, and said in a voice that was still stentorian, “You’d better be right.”

God bless Steve Bowen. And I definitely hope the parish priest was right.