David J.

Pollay

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March 3, 2008

The Goal of the Hallway

It happened many years ago. But I will never forget it. 

The church was full. Family members packed the front pews. Friends filled in behind them. Religious leaders, business leaders and community leaders were all there. There was a journalist quietly taking notes in the corner. Everyone was there to honor his life.

One family member after another stepped to the pulpit to share their memories of him. Leaders followed with their tributes to him; they talked long about the impact he had on the community. He was an impressive man.

The service was over. I lingered. Beautiful music was playing. I thought about the impact he had had on so many people. I then quietly walked out of the sanctuary. 

On the way to the reception in another part of the church, I saw a group of family members standing in the corner of a long hallway. They were looking down. They were talking quietly. No one was around them. I walked towards them. 

I thought I would say that I’m sorry for their loss. I would tell them how amazing I thought he was. I would tell them how much he did for the community. I would try to comfort them.

They looked up as I approached. They each smiled faintly. I stopped and I spoke. I told them everything I had planned to tell them. And then the one standing nearest to me spoke first.

He said, “Thank you for what you said.” He then looked to the side. He paused. He looked back at me. Then he said, “Many of the stories told today we had never heard. We did not know that about him. We did not always see that side of him.” I froze. I did not say anything. No one said anything. 

He then broke the silence: “The public knew a different man. He could have been around more . . . more for us.” 

I then couldn’t help myself. I stammered, “I know he loved his family. I’m sure he expressed it in different ways.” They all then said that they loved him. They were proud of everything he did for the community. They just wished he had shared more of his love with his family.

I did not expect to hear this about him. He had achieved such great things and he was a good man – there remains no doubt of that – yet, he left his family wishing that he had given more to them.

We then said goodbye and I walked slowly down the long hallway to continue our tribute to him at the reception. 

For years I have read in books and articles – and have heard in speeches and in seminars – that we should write our own eulogy. We should write all the things that we would want people to say about us at our memorial service. The idea is that we would then live our life to match the tribute we wrote. While I have followed this advice previously in my life, I now have another goal.

I now pursue what I call, “The Goal of the Hallway.” 

While I am grateful for what you might say of me in public, I care what you say in the hallway.

The mark of my life will be what is said in the hallway, not just in the sanctuary. Memories of my life will be celebrated in private, not just on screens. My life stories will be told by others unrehearsed, not just in speeches.

So I will try to focus on what matters most in my life. 

If you are my family, I will tell you that I love you. I will hug and kiss you. 

If you are my friend, I will care for you. I will be there for you. 

If you are my colleague, I will support you. I will appreciate you. 

And if you are in my community, I will work with you. I will reach out to you. 

I will try to focus on what matters most in my life.

While I am grateful for what you might say of me in public, the mark of my life will be what you say in the hallway.

This is The Goal of the Hallway. Consider making it yours.

© 2008 David J. Pollay. Distributed by North Star Writers Group. May not be republished without permission.

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