What would YOUR obituary say?

If you read your obituary today (God Forbid, please indulge me here), what would it say?

A better question might be, would you be happy with what was said?

If you would be embarrassed, disappointed, less than excited, what would you do to change it?

Next question: why are you waiting around?

What will change between now and tomorrow that gets you to the point where, if you read your obit, or could write your own, you’d be pleased with it? You know, you’d look down and say, “Gee, I wasn’t quite 100% ready, but you know, that’s not bad!”

I know a few close to me that would honestly appreciate what their friends, family or themselves had to say about them, reflecting backwards.

Life’s about balance. Not too much bad (whatever that means), not too much goodness. But, plenty of compassion, and passion.

Where you at in all this? Could you be a better dad? A better businessman? A better relative? Friend? Comrade? Colleague? Partner? Husband?

Are you giving every relationship all it deserves?

Sometimes, reflection’s necessary. It helps you adjust your course. Change direction. Get “righted.”

Get on it, ok?

[Side note: I wrote this originally on 9/10/2009 at 10:54 AM. I'm just now publishing it and not sure why I waited so long. Today's the day after Thanksgiving. I have a lot to be thankful for and I refuse to recognize it only one-time a year. I look at my two girls and marvel at their happiness for the goofiest stuff - like taking hot tubs and playing hot tub olympics games or making Jif peanut butter cookies with their dad...they have such excitement and passion over the small things that really do make life worth living. As adults, we get far too old far too fast. I like being a kid. Tonight was one of the best nights I've ever had with my kids. I hope they feel the same.

Speaking of kiddos, I know three boys tonight that are going to bed without ever having the chance to see their father again. My friend Sam, 37 years old and father of three great boys, lost his battle to alcohol. The battle against the bottle is a tough, evil one. And, sadly, he didn't persevere. It's tougher, too, since he'd just hit some amazing milestones in his life after a lot of tough setbacks. You know, one had more fast friends than Sam. People gravitated toward him. He had a natural charisma putting strangers at instant ease. No one had a cooler gym than Sam and he was the strongest dude I've ever known. He had a lot of passion and loved his kids more than anything. Even though it's been a few weeks since Sam departed, and it's been over two months since I wrote this blog post above the two came together at a good time. Godspeed Sam. We'll miss you.]