In a recent interview, I was asked how I wanted to be remembered and what Iwanted my obituary to say. Asking myself the same question in the fall of 2007 was one of the factors that pushed me to make the drastic decision to leave a secure job and do nothing but walk for almost five months.
I admit it—I’d pretty much fallen into the trap of the rat race, running as fast as I could to make as much money as possible. That didn’t leave much time in my life for living. Wife, family, God—they pretty much had to settle for whatever leftover bits of time I could find in my busy days.
Then my wife died of breast cancer in 2006, and dying suddenly forced me to think about living. Two-thirds of my life was probably already gone—what had I done with it?
How would my obituary read?
It’s too easy to let the hours slip away without evaluating how we’re spending our allotted days. We make decisions based on the immediate need or want. We put off until tomorrow attention to the most important ingredients of life. We try to ignore our mortality and the fact that our days are indeed numbered. We forget that today determines tomorrow.
I did quit the job that had consumed my days. I undertook a long and extremely difficult journey to living. But now I have a firm answer to the question. When folks remember me, I hope they say, “He enjoyed the journey.”