It's called the time between the dash. It's everything that happens from the day you're born till the day you die.
If you look at my father's headstone it says, "Alvin Bruce Strouse, January 3, 1925 - August 14, 2013. That's 88 years between the dash. A long life by any standard. In his case, not just a long life but a good life. I wrote about it in a post last year - Dad.
As I wrote in that post the first time I heard the phrase was when my cousin Phil delivered Dad's eulogy. Being a close nephew to Dad - Phil and I are a year apart in age and grew up together - he was able to fill that that dash with details, sensitivity and humor.
Last October my older brother, and only sibling, Danny passed away just three weeks after being diagnosed with cancer. Danny's dash reads August 29, 1947 - October 4, 2014. His dash of 67 years seems way too short but nonetheless is filled with a lifetime of love (married 47 years), family (three great sons and daughter-in-laws plus six grandkids) and service (retired police officer).
The point, other than to offer myself a forum to mourn, is to assess my dash and how I'm going to fill the rest of it. What will be the final box score and analysis of my dash someday (hopefully a long, long time from now).
But the dash isn't just the dates in your obituary. It's the dash on your employment as well. It's the dash from the day you start until the day you depart - regardless of the reason or circumstance. What will people say about your dash? Will it be filled with superlatives and accolades? Will it be filled with venom and daggers? Or, most normally, a bit of both depending on who's delivering the "eulogy".
I think in work as in life the goal should not be to try to direct the words used after you depart but instead to earnestly and sincerely do your best, try your best and deliver your best, then let others decide.
So, what fills the time between your dash?
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