Finding Your Perfect Dash

In the last year, I’ve had the opportunity to get closer to my immediate family through the advanced stages of my stepfather’s multiple myeloma diagnosis. Even when we may logically realize we have a terminal diagnosis, I think we may not be capable of understanding the repercussions until we get closer to what ultimately becomes our end of life on this earth. Last month he passed away and his transition is one of the most loving family memories I will hold dear. Today, we held his funeral at Arlington National Cemetery and honored his service to our country as an Army Master Sargent and Tank Commander in the Vietnam War. Referred to by his friends as “Sarge”, he was so very proud of his crew and his service and then later, his Wahoo tailgating gang and forever his family. That is what really defined him--his relationships. I was not expecting the emotion that swelled up when the Honor Guard member presented the folded flag to my mother and said: “On behalf of a grateful nation, I present you this flag. It is a symbol of the appreciation this nation holds for the service rendered to our country by your husband.”

And yesterday, I attended a service for the mother of a good friend and colleague. It was a beautiful testimony to a life lived in service to others. Our parents passed exactly one week apart. Over the last 11 months, I watched him struggle with his own mother’s cancer diagnosis. Both of our parents lost their valiant fights as they rallied as long as they could. And from what I’ve observed, and what my friend shared at his mother’s service yesterday, ”although it sucked, because there was so much outside of our control, it was perfect in many ways.”

“Perfect” was the word he chose to portray the end of life activities and spirit that he experienced with his family. And her service yesterday, which was attended by hundreds of the people she personally impacted as a social worker, people in uniform, people who admittedly shared that she had saved their lives, seemed pretty “perfect” to me as well.

I have experienced that in all adversity there is a personal growth opportunity. These losses have served to ground me in realizing that:

·        important takes priority over urgent; being present with those you are with is possibly your greatest gift you can give them; and being intentional about the impact you make can be powerful.

I was reminded of a poem I first learned about 10 years ago by Linda Ellis, titled The Dash. It talks about the dash that appears between the years from the beginnings of life to one’s end. It reminds us that it is all of our life activity, from beginning to end, that ultimately defines us. And more importantly, while we are living, we have a choice in how we define that dash.

I have been inspired and am reflecting on my own legacy: Am I am doing enough? What more can I, should I, do? I expect something pretty awesome to come out of these reflections.

As the poem closes, it creates an opportunity for me to ask myself… “So, when your eulogy is being read, with your life’s actions to rehash…would you be proud of the things they say about how you spent YOUR dash?”