All external expectations, all pride, all fear of embarrassment or failure—these things just fall away in the face of death, leaving only what is truly important.
—Steve Jobs
My (Daniel’s) friend Mike was physically fit and about as funny as he was smart. He played more practical jokes than anyone I knew. Not even cancer could rob him of his sense of humor.
The disease surprised everyone. Long into his battle, as I visited him in the hospital, Mike talked about how cancer had heightened his awareness of the clock. He said he wished he could have spent more time with the people who mattered most in his life, starting with his dear wife, Gabby. “We all die,” he said. “I just did not fully realize it before.” He felt like he’d wasted a lot of time.
A few months later Gabby called me. Despite the treatments, the cancer had spread to Mike’s brain. I flew out the next day to be with Mike in the hospital—the day after his thirty-eighth birthday.
I walked into the hospital room unannounced. There sat Mike in his bed, entangled in a web of wires and tubes. He was a shadow of his former self—emaciated by the cancer that racked his body. His eyes opened wide. “What are you doing here? Are you here for business, to surf . . . or what?”
“I’m just here to hang with you,” I said. It was the first time I’d ever seen my strong friend scared. I could see it in his eyes and trembling hands.
Walking toward the bed, I asked Mike how he was doing. He grabbed my hand and answered, choking back the tears, “Not good. This is my worst nightmare, it is in my brain and I am not ready.”
The two of us prayed. We talked about our families, our work, and the things that mattered most. Mike was not angry or filled with self-pity, just conflicted—trying to be brave, but struggling with the uncertainty of how the future would unfold and the fears that went along with that.
A few hours later I said my goodbyes, fighting back tears. “Don’t feel sorry for me,” Mike said, “I could outlive you. None of us know when we will go”—an unexpected and sobering truth if ever there was one.
Two hours later I boarded a plane for home. As I took off and flew above the California coastline, I took in a spectacular sunset over the Pacific and recalled seeing the sunrise that morning. Before that day I had always looked at a great sunrise or sunset as separate events. But my day with Mike and his passing, which happened not long after, reminded me that the setting is part of the rising.
The question for us is what happens in between. It’s true for a day, and it’s true for an entire life. The problem is that most of us are so caught up in our moment-to-moment activities, we don’t stop to ask ourselves, Where is this all going? How is it going to end if I stick to this same path?
Play the movie of your life forward and find out. How? Keep reading.
Begin at the End
As we think about our legacy, we need to start with the end. This is obvious for other activities. The first thing you do in planning the family vacation, for example, is choose a destination. That determines everything else—the transportation required to get there, the clothing you will need to take with you, the accommodation options available, and the activities you might enjoy during your stay.
If it’s true for enjoying a getaway, it’s infinitely more so when it comes to mapping your life. What outcomes do you want? The end determines everything else—the characters you include in your story, the role they play in your life (and you in theirs), the projects you initiate, and the way you conduct your affairs.
There is a great Hebrew scripture that says, “Teach us to number our days, that we may gain a heart of wisdom.”1 Unless we take the time to regain our perspective and face the reality that life is short, we risk arriving at a destination we didn’t choose—or at least one we wouldn’t prefer.
For the past twenty years, Building Champions coaches have been directing our clients to write out their eulogy as if it were being read today. It is a powerful exercise that helps people prepare for the process of creating a meaningful and powerful Life Plan. Why? It engages both the head and the heart, which we have found to be critical for one’s Life Plan to effect real and lasting change.2 During your funeral, someone from your family—perhaps even a few friends—will offer a eulogy, a “good word” about your life. At the reception after the service, the words will continue. People will tell stories about you and express to one another what you truly meant to them. Imagine you could attend your own funeral and listen in to those conversations.
Our days add up to a lifetime. At the end of that life, what will those closest to you say, what will they remember, how will they assess your legacy? The bad news is that once you’re gone, you won’t have any control over it. You will have passed on whatever you had—the good, the bad, or the ugly.
The good news is there’s still time. The future is full of possibilities. You can still influence the conversations that will happen once you are gone. You can shape them by the choices you make from this point forward.
As we said in chapter 2, “Understand the Mission,” a Life Plan is the answer to three powerful questions. It is time to answer question 1: How do you want to be remembered? This question forces you to consider your legacy.
Typically, we only use the word legacy when we talk about the rich and famous. Obviously, Abraham Lincoln left a legacy. So did Cornelius Vanderbilt. And Martin Luther King Jr. and Margaret Thatcher. But the rest of us? Absolutely.
Our legacy comprises the spiritual, intellectual, relational, vocational, and social capital we pass on. It’s the sum total of the beliefs you embrace, the values you live by, the love you express, and the service you render to others. It’s the you-shaped stamp you leave when you go.
Truth is, everyone is in the process of creating—and leaving—a legacy. The question is not “Will you leave a legacy?” but “What kind of legacy will you leave?” The sooner you come to grips with this reality, the sooner you can start creating it. Like it or not, your life now shapes your legacy then. You have an impact on everyone around you. You will influence the course of other people’s lives for good or for bad. In other words, your life matters. You are here for a reason. Your job is to determine why.
The good news is that you can shape the memories of the people who matter most to you. The thoughts, words, and actions you choose will have an impact. We’ll choose those in subsequent chapters, but here we want to help you clarify the memories you want to create.
As we suggest, it is helpful to visualize your own funeral. Ask, “How do I want to be remembered when I am gone?” What do you want the people closest to you to say?
Don’t miss this step. The most compelling and effective Life Plans are created by those who are fully committed to the process of creating and following their plan. Every bit of you must go into this process. Be open and vulnerable with yourself. You want to capture your true values. By numbering your days and facing your mortality, you can engage your mind and heart in a compelling and powerful way.
“I feel like it has made me such a better leader,” Janet told us when we asked her about the impact of Life Planning. “I am so much more compassionate and connected.” She said this funeral exercise was the most eye-opening part of the process. It has helped her become more humble and self-aware, which has radically altered the culture of her business.
Begin to Shape Your Legacy
Imagining your legacy can be challenging, but it’s an absolute must. It helps to approach it as a two-step process. The first step is to write your eulogy as if it were being read today. The second is to craft a series of Legacy Statements as you would hope they would be read at some point in the future.
The best way to write your eulogy is to imagine you’re an invisible guest at your own memorial. Yes, it might sound strange. But it’s a fantastic way of becoming present to what our life really means to others. Who is saying what? Who is not saying what you would have hoped they could or would say? Look at those sitting in the first row. Notice their grief. What are they remembering, the highs and the lows? The key is to write out what those closest to you would say. If you’re married, what would your spouse say? How about your kids, siblings, parents, and closest friends? Now look at those sitting in the middle and back rows. How are they experiencing this moment? What might your teammates, neighbors, and others you spend time with say?
To help you envision what your eulogy might look like, here’s an example from Tom. You can see his and other examples in the Life Plan section in the back of the book. Notice how it’s written as if it were being read today, looking back on his life:
Here’s why this matters. By writing the eulogy as if it’s being delivered today, you may see some gaps between what people would say and what you would like them to say. That can be unsettling for some people, but news flash: You’re still alive and have the power to change the course of your life!
The second step in our process—creating your Legacy Statements—will give you the clarity you need to reach your desired destination. Here’s how to craft them.
1. Identify your key relationships. Who matters most in your life? Think of the people who might be present at your funeral. Here are some possibilities:
Your list doesn’t have to include all of these, by any means. And you’ll want to personalize it. Use your husband’s or wife’s real name, for instance. The number of people or groups you include is totally up to you. The important thing is that these are people who represent the groups you can still influence. As long as they are alive and you are alive, you can have a positive impact.
2. Describe how you want to be remembered by each group. One way to do this is to use this sentence format: “I want [name or category of relationship account] to remember . . .” For example, this is how Karen, a stay-at-home mom, said she wants her husband to remember her:
Here’s how Chad, a high school history teacher, said he wants his children to remember him:
Donna, a divisional executive for a large manufacturing company, said this is how she wants her colleagues at work to remember her:
Finally, Eric, an online marketer, said this is how he wants his social media followers to remember him:
3. Make your Legacy Statements as compelling as you can. Remember, if your Life Plan will be compelling enough to shape your future, it must engage your mind and your heart. Both are essential. One way to do the latter is to make your Legacy Statements as specific and concrete as possible. For example, rather than saying,
you might instead say something like:
Leaving a legacy is inevitable. Leaving the one you want is not. But you have agency in the moment. This combination of writing your eulogy and Legacy Statements will enable you to live forward and design the legacy you truly want.
Make the Most of the Time Left
Eugene O’Kelly, former CEO of KPMG, one of the largest accounting firms in the world, was diagnosed with late-stage brain cancer at age fifty-three. His doctors soberly told him he had about three months to live. He quickly came to the conclusion that recovery was impossible. A miracle was unlikely. He was forced to do what most of us put out of our minds—think about his own impending death and the impact he had on others.
Over the next ninety days he determined he would die well. In true CEO fashion he created goals for himself. He made a list of important relationships he wanted to “unwind.” By this he meant he wanted to bring closure to those relationships and communicate how much each person meant to him. Unlike us, he didn’t have time to procrastinate. He couldn’t just add this to his “someday/maybe” list, because he was out of days. Death was upon him.
During these last few months he decided he would create as many “perfect moments” as he could. His aim was to orchestrate experiences with others when time stands still—a time full of the present, when the past is left behind and the future is set aside.3
He consciously excluded interruptions and distractions. He turned his cell phone off. His heart was wide open. All that mattered for him was this moment—the people he was with and the conversation they were having now.
Even though his life was short, he made a lasting impact on those around him by becoming intentional with his remaining time. None of us know how long we have left. Do we have another thirty years—or thirty minutes? The parting statement of Mike, Daniel’s friend, was spot on. We don’t know. But we can make a difference and begin to shape our legacy now.