WHY DOES IT TAKE A FUNERAL?

I don’t know whether it is a product of getting older, sheer bad luck, or something else, but I have unfortunately attended a number of funerals in the past few months. As a result, life and death have been top of mind, which is why a question my brother asked me recently struck a chord. He said,

“Ted, why does it take a funeral to remind us what is truly important, and what is not?”

I vividly remember thinking this nearly 21 years ago after a friend named George Boiardi died playing lacrosse for Cornell University (he is pictured above on the right). He and I had grown up together, gone to school together, played sports together, and had just celebrated New Years together with a number of other friends. When he passed, two thoughts raced through my head.

First, I begged myself to do a better job of appreciating the important things in life and to “not sweat the small stuff” as much.

Second, knowing time is life’s most finite asset, I wanted to do a better job thinking about how to spend it.

Over the years I have tried to keep these thoughts top of mind, but as we all know, the minutiae of day-to-day life has a tendency to make you revert to your old ways, which unfortunately means sweating the small stuff more than we’d like and not appreciating the time we have as much as we should.

This said, these recent funerals have brought these thoughts back to the surface for me.

CONSIDER WHAT YOU WILL MISS

The first funeral I attended was for a former neighbor who passed away suddenly after suffering a heart attack. When I heard the news, I called another neighbor who said something to me I will never forget,

“You know Ted, for years Jeff used to drive me nuts because every Saturday morning he would run his leaf blower when all I wanted was some peace and quiet to drink my coffee and read the newspaper. Now, after his passing, I can’t tell you how much I miss hearing that leaf blower.”

Unfortunately, it too often takes a death to make you realize what you’ll truly miss when it’s gone.

DEFINE SUCCESS

As you get older, the question of what defines “success” gets talked about a lot.

Is it Power? Money? Respect? Admiration? Love?

I personally hadn’t formed a definitive answer, that is until I witnessed something at a memorial service for a former coach of mine, Dave Urick, last week.

As I stood in the back of the church, I looked around and noticed something unusual. It was a memorial service almost entirely composed of men. More specifically, men who appeared to range in age from their late teens to 60ish. Many had gray and balding heads, some had tight professional cuts, while others had long and shaggy manes.

See, this coach had spent nearly three-and-a-half decades coaching lacrosse at two universities and, in doing so, had likely touched the lives of more than 400 players. In that room that day, it felt like a significant number of them were in attendance (there wasn’t an open seat in the church).

Some drove hundreds of miles on a cold rainy day to attend the service, while others flew in, many just for the day. They came to pay their respects to a man who had changed their lives. To a man who had given them the chance to attend great universities, preferred off-field lessons over those on it, and accepted the responsibility of being the most consequential figure in their lives during their most formative years. To a man they simply wanted to thank and pay their respects.

You want to talk about success. That is success.

SAY YES

In September of 2023, a friend named Alex Vap (pictured in the Harvard jersey) called me while I was on my way to work. I hadn’t heard from Alex in a while, so I was a little surprised to see his name on the caller ID. He told me he was in town for a conference and was calling to see if I wanted to play golf with him and two other doctors. I told him that I appreciated the invite, but unfortunately couldn’t because I had a few things going on at work. He understood and responded that we would play the next time he was in town.

I continued driving for a few more blocks and then, for whatever reason, I flipped on my blinker, did a U-turn, and headed back the way I came. I then picked up my phone and told him I was in.

To this day, I don’t know why I changed my mind or what was going through my head, but I am so grateful I did because two months later he was diagnosed with Stage 4 cancer.

Over the next nine months, when he was in Washington D.C. for treatment he would call me to play golf. If I was in town, I always said yes.

Sometimes we would play 18, while other times we would just play 9 if he wasn’t feeling great. Sometimes we would play with friends, but other times it would just be the two of us. We used these hours to catch up, learn about where life had taken us, and rehash stories about growing up (we had played hockey and lacrosse together despite never having gone to the same school). Yet, as much as I enjoyed these rounds, I wish they had never happened because that means he wouldn’t have needed treatment for cancer.

Alex passed away last week and I can’t tell you how glad I am that I “said yes” on that day back in the early fall of 2023. I could have easily gone to work, assuming that there would always be another chance to play golf with him in the future. Yet, for whatever reason I turned around.

At his funeral this past weekend, his brother gave a wonderful eulogy that wrapped up with the theme of “one more”. It went something like this.

“What I would give to have one more conversation with my brother. One more trip. One more Christmas. One more meal. One more beer. One more laugh. One more hug. One more anything.”

What I would give for one more round of golf with him.

The fact is, we all go through life thinking and assuming there will be more time, but the fact is you never know when you won’t. Therefore, say yes.