My oldest daughter Ainslie is getting married today. My family is incredibly happy for her and we all hope she and her husband Reg have a healthy and joyous life together.
A marriage, needless to say, is a time to celebrate the present and look ahead to the future with great expectations. In drafting my toast to the bride, however, I was struck by the similarities in what is said at a wedding and at a funeral. That may seem a strange connection but it was triggered by another significant occurrence this week – the funeral of a friend.
I didn’t know Mark Hendrikx well. He was a fellow CA who I met when we worked on a file together. We became friends although we didn’t spend a lot of time together.
He died of cancer, leaving behind his wife and five children. He was only 48.
The funeral, which took place in Newcastle (near Bowmanville, ON), was packed. Someone told the story of how Mark always saying he doubted there would be more than six people at his funeral. How wrong he was.
Why would he say that? I think because he wasn’t a flashy guy. He wasn’t a star, if that’s the right word to use.
But he was a kind and considerate person, someone who gladly did tax returns for seniors for free.
At his funeral it was his character people spoke about the most. His friends and family knew he was a good man, and they loved him for who he was.
As I thought about what I wanted to say about Ainslie, I too was drawn to think about her character. She’s a talented artist, among other accomplishments that I’m proud of, but what I care most about is who she is as a person.
My memory was drawn back to a trip we took together when she was in grade eight or nine. We flew to Atlanta one long weekend and from there drove to St. Simon’s Island, a beautiful spot in southeastern Georgia.
Our purpose was not just to spend some father-daughter time together. It was also to develop personal mission statements, and the action plans we’d need to accomplish what we wanted to work on in our lives.
In general, I’d say we wanted to live more intentionally, which to us meant how could we transform whatever goals we had from just words to specific actions.
How does intentionality work? Let’s take a common example. How often do we say to an old friend, “We should have lunch some time.” To which the person answers, “Absolutely, we really should.” And then we both walk away.
If you actually want to have lunch, you have to take our your calendars and search for a time that works and make a date. Otherwise that lunch will never happen.
At the time of my trip with Ainslie there were some personal issues with people in our forensic practice and I realized I was letting them distract me from my home life. I needed to set aside more time for my wife and three children. I knew for some time that I had to change and find a healthier balance between my work and my personal life. Doing so intentionally, however, was not proving easy.
I think that weekend helped me and I sense it helped shape Ainslie. There’s no doubt in my mind that she is better at the intentional-living challenge than I am. She has a level of stick-to-it-ness that is truly inspiring.
So at her wedding I will talk about her character, and that of her husband. And I will wish them well in their life together from the depths of my heart.
I will also likely take a moment to think again about Mark, and that packed church earlier this week.
He was imperfect, like all of us. But there was a lot about him to admire. One thing I sensed was that led an intentional life. If someone asked me to describe him in one phrase I’d say he was someone who stuck-to-it once he committed to a project. He took action. Like Ainslie.
It’s strange how Ainslie and Mark, in their own way, are so related. And it’s strange that this week I’m celebrating two lives. One that’s still young and vibrant, the other over too soon.
Work is important, but at a wedding or a funeral it’s not work we talk about. It’s love and character we tend to mention. And rightly so. This is what life is really about, I believe.
