I was wearing a brand new suit and preparing to leave home
for the airport. My trip was to Chicago to attend the annual fundraiser
for Operation PUSH where I served as National Coordinator. We expected 10,000
people to be in attendance. Just as I was about to grab my suitcase, my telephone
rang. It was my brother calling me. The two words he spoke marked the beginning
of the rest of my life. My brother simply said, “Daddy’s gone!”
My dad had been admitted to the hospital a few days earlier
to undergo tests. Today those same tests would not require being
hospitalized. But back then my dad had to actually be put to sleep and have the
doctor cut him open to look inside his colon. The tests had been complete and I had
visited with my dad the night before. He was doing fine while I was there. So
when my brother told me that dad was gone, I told him that he had probably been
transferred to another room. “No,” my brother replied. “Daddy died last night.”
We later learned that the anesthesiologist administered too much anesthesia and
it induced a heart attack that killed him. My father was 47 years old. And he
was my best friend.
The pain of my loss paralyzed me. And I was overwhelmed by
the responsibilities that were now mine as the oldest of three children – the
youngest being my eight old sister. This was the darkest day of my life.
Everyone has a dark day. Divorce, criminal conviction, job
loss, home foreclosure, business failure, illness, betrayal and death are just
a few experiences that can stop us in our tracks. When we are stopped by events
or circumstances, we can momentarily lose our passion. Sometimes it is actually
longer than momentary. Some never get it back. Here is what I learned after my
father’s death.
It was my job to write my dad’s obituary. As I wrote, I
described his accomplishments. But I also felt compelled to describe his
character, his beliefs and his faith. It became clear that it was not enough to
include information about what he did during his life. What became more urgent
for me was to let people know who he really was – what he stood for and
believed in. In the end I wanted people to understand that his mission was to
be a man of integrity and character and that he had fulfilled his mission.
It was at that very moment that I realized that I didn’t
have a mission. Without a clear mission I would perhaps remain stuck in my pain
or just always be busy doing projects for the rest of my life. With
a clear mission I would stay focused on my purpose for being alive. When
we cannot feel our passion, we can still see our mission!
Action items:
1.
In 25 words or less write your personal mission
statement.
2.
Write a draft of your own obituary – what you
would want read at your funeral.
3.
Ask someone close to you what he or she thinks
your mission is and compare it to your own mission statement.
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