My
favorite uncle died a few weeks ago, at the young age of 78
after a long battle with significant health issues. He was
well-loved, leaving behind many people who will suffer a great
loss with his passing. By most standards, my uncle was an
ordinary man; and in some ways extraordinary. He was a star
athlete growing up, leaving behind unbroken records in the
history books. His name is legendary in our area - it seems
most everyone knew him in some way. He was well known as a
happy person with an easy laugh and the potential for trouble.
He
was a father to three boys, all unique in the way siblings
can be. At his memorial service, each of his boys spoke of
the impact he had on their lives as their father. First, the
youngest son recounted the valuable lessons his father had
taught him through his participation in team sports. He taught
him that it's not always about winning, and made sure his
son knew that he was loved regardless if he won or lost the
game. They shared a deep love for music, and spent a great
deal of time together listening. This son, a man who was raised
with the unconditional love of his father, recognized the
lessons. This was their way together.
The
middle son spoke next. Soft-spoken by nature; he is not one
to get up in front of a crowd. With a strong and emotional
voice, the second son paid tribute to the time he had spent
with his father fishing. He credited his father for spending
endless hours with him while fishing, teaching the lessons
of patience and perseverance; planting the love of fishing
into his heart as well as that of his own son. As his voice
broke, we were struck with the impact a simple act of fishing
can have on a child's life. This was their way together.
Next
went the eldest. Emotional yet resolute, he related that the
lessons his father taught him were the same ones his brothers
learned, though the vehicle used to learn them was different.
He and his father spent time with nature; cultivating plants
and flowers and enjoying the sights, smells, and sounds of
the woods. He relived the way his father let silence surround
them, and the emotional closeness that resulted in just being
together and enjoying each other's company. This was their
way together.
Three
sons held the same view of their father, though seen through
different eyes and experiences.
The
friends and family of my uncle were deeply moved by the son's
tributes. Though my uncle was quite a card, there were no
funny stories told. It's not that we didn't remember this
fundamental part of him, the part where he was always cracking
jokes and smiling, and playing practical jokes; it's more
that what seemed important to memorialize him were his contributions
as a father and grandfather. This is the stuff that matters.
As
a coach, I work with clients who struggle with balancing time
spent at work and at home. It's a common coaching topic, as
we all wrestle with changing priorities. As busy people, it's
very easy to overlook the impact we are having in the lives
of our children. We get preoccupied, and that time spent fishing
becomes just one more thing on our to-do list. We lose sight
of the truth - that those moments add up to be powerful memories
our children take with them their whole lives.
We
will all someday leave a legacy for our children. We are building
that legacy, one sporting event, one fishing trip at a time.
What will they remember?
