65 - MORE ON BATON PASS

CREATE A MEASURE OF YOUR OWN PEACE

Carl professed no fear of death, but a terrible fear of being forgotten. He feared that in the end, his life would not have really mattered. He confided that his worst fear was that he would drop the baton and die with regrets.

 He was a man of few words, but a big heart. His family was so scattered and distant that few could afford to visit him and he was beyond traveling. He knew he couldn't call them and be able to say what he wanted to say – there was just too much.

 He had not put pen to paper for over 50 years, but writing became his sanctuary. He wrote a letter to his whole family with special addendums for each. He spent all of the few months he had composing his letter. It became a focus for each day and the priceless core purpose of his backstretch.

 Dying was a pretty solitary experience for Carl, as it is for many, made worse by not knowing how much time he had left nor when to call the kids to his side for their last goodbye. As he feared, of a sudden, death stared him in the face. But he was ready. The anxiety had left him; his message was secure on paper where he left it on the kitchen table for them to find.

As it turned out a few arrived at the hospital just before the end. He had his thoughts already collected and was able to deliver many more of them than he had ever imagined. The anxiety was gone and a kind of joy like a poultice entered his room. By taking control of transmitting his legacy in writing, this fretful, but caring, man had created a measure of his own peace.