My husband is in the news business - in New England - which means we were up early this morning on news that Senator Kennedy had passed. Interestingly he passed away late last night, on the anniversary of the death of my father from the same type of cancer. Both were great men - Sen. Kennedy nationally and my father on a local level - and also flawed men (like us all - some just hide it better than others). It's a sad day. Whether you like his politics or not, Senator Kennedy cared deeply about ensuring everyone in our society had access and opportunity and spent his life dedicated to making our society a better place.
I've given a lot of thought to the process of dying over the years mostly thanks to the way my father handled his own mortality. While he underwent treatment, when it was clear that he had an aggressive form of cancer, he accepted that gracefully and spent the limited time he did have on the business of life and relationships, not on fighting. He died gently and with dignity at home. Even in that final stage, he taught me about how to end things - and that sometimes we need to accept the end so that it is dignified and allows for those left behind to move on securely, if sadly. After his death, I also realized some other things:
- By knowing him, we could continue to know him and 'be' with him - I still wonder what he would think about some things but in many situations, I'm pretty sure I know and that knowledge can still make me smile or cause me frustration. Ending something doesn't mean it has to leave you.
- My father lives on through the lives of people he knew. He continues to have influence over how many people think and act - and with that, his life's work continues.
- The end of his day-to-day influence, which was strong, has given me the space and opportunity to become my own person. Part of that means that I've made choices that he may not have made for me, but are good choices for me - and I may not have made while he was alive because I did not want to face his disappointment or disagreement.
- The vacuum of his death in his community forced people to re-assess what they valued and whether they would step up and fill part of that vacuum. It empowered others.
How does all of this relate to our organizations and how we work together? Well, I don't think we are particularly good at dealing with the death of a person, an initiative, or an entire organization. More often than not, we resist the dying and force extreme measures so that we can hold on for just a little longer. The reaction to the suggestion that everyone should have end of life counseling being called 'death panels' is just one of many examples of this. In our organizations, the problem is even greater. It is really hard to kill a dying business model, an initiative/product to which a few senior people are highly committed but is clearly not working, or indeed to say goodbye to staff that just are not a good fit. The suggestion that we end something is pretty horrifying to many people.
The problem is, we ignore the whole concept of ending things often because we feel it reflects our own failure, but everything ends whether we choose to acknowledge it or not. And because we don't often plan for the end, they are often highly disruptive, prolonged, and aching. It takes a lot of courage to put an end to things but often the pay-off is huge - it can save time, money, churn, dissonance, confusion, prolonged anxiety - and it allows for the celebration of the thing that is ending, before it has withered to a shell of its former self and people have forgotten its benefits.
I'm going to spend part of my day today thinking about things that I'm doing that may need to end. It will give me the time and space for more productive and interesting things to take their place. It may be sad and it may be hard - but it's critical to evolution.

Rachel, nicely written. I too, lost my dad last fall to cancer and I have had the same learnings as you. When I struggle with a decision, I think "what would Dad do". He was strong and shaped my personality and many say I am just like him, which makes me smile. We all struggle with him not being here, but he left his mark on all of us.
Whether it is a person, a business or a relationship, dealing with "the end" is difficult because you are right, it feels like failure. But everything ends eventually, and understanding that it is part of life helps us deal with the loss a little bit better.
But as they say, when one door closes, another opens. We need to be open to letting go of some things and grasping for new and exciting opportunities.
Posted by: Debra Murphy | August 26, 2009 at 08:41 AM
Thank you for your post, Rachel. I find myself filled with emotion this morning. I knew this day was coming, of course, but didn't quite expect to feel it so profoundly. I'm sure this moment in time is not just about losing one of the most dedicated and passionate politicians of our time, but also about that overall anticipation of the ultimate end. With this, I'm reminded of two very special people in my life who are battling cancer today and, as is so natural to do, I'm filled with fear. I don't want to lose them, of course. But I'm trying to learn a lesson from this day, and more importantly from the Senator's 77 years.
Ted Kennedy was the man who would never be President. But he never let that limit his impact. He worked tirelessly to reach greatness and achieved it. He had a unique power to influence that came from years of hard work and hard-won relationships. He was never perfect, but always genuine. Many loved him, some hated him, but all respected him.
Ted lived his final months among the things he loved most...his work, his family, his sailboat. And among the last things he did was to issue appeals to his colleagues to work together for an effective solution to our nation's healthcare, and to ensure someone would be put in his place to continue his tireless efforts to get us there.
Ted knew this end was only HIS end. He was keenly aware that his family, his friends, his nation would go on. He was intent upon living every last ounce of his life and then putting his trust and faith in someone else to continue his life's work. I plan to reflect upon this end. It's time I take a closer look at the transitions that need to occur in my life and my work, and let go of the fear.
I am humbled by this loss, but I'm inspired to do better and determined to live my own brand of greatness.
Rest in peace, Ted, and thank you.
Posted by: Carissa Caramanis O'Brien | August 26, 2009 at 08:51 AM
Hi Debra -
Thanks for stopping and sharing your thoughts - I'm so sorry for your loss. It is now your job to figure out what part of him you want to carry on - no easy task.
Carissa - I couldn't have said it better. Part of why I admire Sen. Kennedy to such a degree is that he exhibited the traits that I admire most - and are interestingly the traits of a good community manager. Persistence, dedication, a sense of humor, passion, empathy, and thinking about others. I would like to see more of those traits in all of our leaders and it is very sad to loose one of the best examples of it. It's definitely a call to me to step up.
Posted by: Rachel Happe | August 26, 2009 at 09:02 AM
This is a great reflection and a fitting tribute to Kennedy's life and service. I have been part of many organizational 'deaths', including a couple that were really fairly beautiful, but I agree that that's the exception. I like, too, your opening about Senator Kennedy's humanity--I think that we create greater honor for our heroes when we're honest about their faults and show that we love them still. And it opens the space for the rest of us, admittedly flawed as well, to live heroically despite our imperfections. Demands that of us, in fact. Thank you for giving some shape to my morning's reflections.
Posted by: Melinda Lewis | August 26, 2009 at 09:16 AM