What Will Your Dash Say About You?

A few years ago, I stood at the graves of both of my parents.

As I looked at the headstones, I reflected on the dates engraved in the stone. My father, Sidney, died at age 41. My mother, Bertha, died at age 39. I was only five years old when my father died and eight years old when my mother passed away.

Those losses shaped my life in ways I could never have understood as a child.

For many decades, Mother's Day and Father's Day have carried mixed emotions for me. I am genuinely happy for those who get to celebrate with their parents, but there is always a quiet sadness knowing that I never had the opportunity to pick up the phone, send a card, or simply say, "Happy Mother's Day" or "Happy Father's Day" to my own mother and father.

Thankfully, life had other plans for me.

Along the way, foster parents, mentors, friends, and caring adults stepped into my life when I needed them most. To this day, I am grateful that I still have people whom I can honour and thank on those special days. They may not have given me life, but they helped shape it.

Recently, I found myself looking again at a photograph of my mother's tombstone. It brought back memories of standing there years ago and reflecting on something that still feels strange to me today: I have now lived much longer than either of my parents ever had the opportunity to live.

That thought naturally led me to something we all know but rarely like to discuss.

Life is temporary.

In fact, there is one statistic that has remained remarkably consistent throughout human history. No matter how much technology advances, how healthy we eat, how many supplements we take, how many experts we follow online, or how many steps our smartwatch records, the mortality rate remains stubbornly fixed at 100%.

It is perhaps the only statistic that has never improved.

None of us are getting out of this alive.

Now before you decide this is the most depressing article you've read all year, stay with me.

I actually find that reality incredibly liberating.

Knowing that our time is limited makes life more precious. It reminds us not to postpone the important things. It gives me a sense of urgency to be intentional about the decisions I make. It encourages us to appreciate the people around us, to say the words that need to be said, and to focus less on things that ultimately don't matter.

When you look at a gravestone, your eyes are naturally drawn to two dates: the day a person was born and the day they died.

But neither date tells the real story.

The real story is found in the dash between them.

That tiny mark represents a lifetime of choices, relationships, victories, failures, lessons learned, risks taken, dreams pursued, and lives touched.

Which raises an important question:

What will your dash say about you?

The truth is that none of us controls how long our dash will be. My father never expected his would end at 41. My mother never expected hers would end at 39. None of us knows how much time we have.

What we do control is what we do with the time we are given.

If you still have breath, there is still time. There is still time to learn and become wiser. There is still time to repair a relationship that has been damaged. There is still time to make things right and do the right thing, even when it is difficult. There is still time to pursue a dream you have put on hold, take a calculated risk, or begin a new chapter in your life.

We cannot change the past, but we can learn from it. We cannot undo every mistake, but we can take responsibility for them. We cannot relive yesterday, but we can choose how we live today.

As long as we are still here, there is still an opportunity to grow, to serve, to forgive, to improve, and to leave a positive mark on the lives of others.

I have come to believe that every person is born with unique gifts and abilities. Yet gifts alone are not enough. Potential does not automatically become reality, and sadly, you cannot eat potential. Skills must be developed. Character must be refined. Wisdom must be pursued. None of those things happen by accident.

They require intention.

One of the saddest things in life is not dying. It is reaching the end of life without ever becoming the person you were capable of becoming.

As I reflect on my own journey, I am filled with gratitude. Gratitude for the foster parents who stepped into my life when I needed them most. Gratitude for mentors who believed in me. Gratitude for friends who encouraged me. Gratitude for people who opened doors, shared wisdom, and helped me become the person I am today.

I am also grateful for the colleagues, leaders, and office staff who have helped build a business that serves others and helps families plan their financial futures. None of us succeeds alone. We are all standing on the shoulders of people who invested their time, wisdom, encouragement, and love into our lives.

One day, all that will remain of our earthly lives will be two dates and a dash between them.

My encouragement is simple.

While you still have breath, make that dash count.

Love deeply. Keep learning. Develop your gifts. Take calculated risks. Help other people. Become what you were meant to become.

And when your story is eventually told, make sure the dash between those two dates says something worth remembering.

After all, the dash is still being written.

Make sure the next chapter is your best one yet.