A Tribute to Todd

A lot of my stories talk about planes or travel because it’s a big part of my life and how I have chosen to live.

And this one is no exception. 

Except it has nothing to do with travel. 

March 31st 2016, I landed at Pearson Airport in Toronto. 

I’ve been away 31 days. 

Perception by many is that I’ve been on a 4 week vacation basking in the sunshine, filling my serotonin levels, and hanging out with Blue Jays baseball players, attending every Spring Training game in Dunedin like some groupie.

Reality is that I wake at 6:30 and I haven’t taken a vacation since March 2012 when I started my job (no one’s fault, of course, except my own) – sometimes I make coffee for my fabulous other half, sometimes I put the pillow over my head because my office in Chicago doesn’t open until 9am Eastern time and I want one more hour of sleep, and sometimes I am adventurous and make coffee and drive Mal to the park so I have the liberty and freedom for a new luncheon adventure with my laptop. I spend more time at the kitchen table in our room at Innisbrook Golf Resort on my email and conference calls than I ever do by the pool but I do try and get a good hour of sunshine a day by running or swimming when I can. I take in a game or two and occasionally I am fortunate enough to be in arms length from Pillar or Smoak or the wives and families of the players. But I am not on vacation. I work remote, which means, I am always on vacation and always working and not always the vision of poster child remote working employment people would think.

The baggage is taking forever. I have one of my closest friends, Michelle, waiting for me outside, a true lifelong friend who has come and picked me up in spite of a meeting she has and a timeframe way too tight to come and get me, but bless her, she did anyways. 

I pick up my voicemail, impatient for my luggage.

“Sarah, this is Julie. Can you please call me – I’d like to talk to you about Todd. (voice cracks). If you can call me back, I would appreciate it”.

My heart pounds. I can’t call from here because I know something is wrong. I text her and tell her that I’ve been traveling and I will call as soon as I am in a quiet place.

An hour later, I put the key in the front door and drag my two bags inside. Michelle bails out for her meeting and I don't even take my shoes off. I pull my phone out of my pocket and dial the number from my front entrance way.

There was an accident, Julie says. He never went home that day, she says. On Thursday, he went out for dinner. He choked on his meal at the restaurant, she says. There was a nurse in the restaurant who gave him the Heimlich maneuver but the loss of oxygen was too long, she says. The paramedics came and brought him to Northwestern hospital where he was on life support for a few days. The doctors said that he would never recover a proper quality of life, she says. Ironically, on the morning of my birthday, March 29, 2016, the family made a decision to let him go. She wants me to know how much he valued working with me, she says, and how he always mentioned how much he enjoyed talking to me, she says.

I hang up the phone. I am in shock. Numb. Disbelief. Heart pounding. I have never experienced anything like this. I haven’t moved. Bags are still by the front door. Shoes still on. Frozen. Pacing. 

Let me tell you a few things about how I work. 

I don’t have children. I am blessed and fortunate to influence many, including once upon a time my former stepchildren and my little sister Amanda and my sister Emma’s kids and Mal’s kids (mostly grown up) now when I can. 

The employees I work with, I give my all too. I may not be the best manager on the planet but you would be hard pressed to find anyone who can feel, empathize and give like I do to the staff I am lucky enough to work with. I love them all – even the most challenging and difficult. I am the life coach, the psychiatrist, the person who will always try and show you the glass is half full, that there is hope and I will always respond within minutes. Crisis manager. Instant response. Perhaps I missed my calling as something different but this is life as I know it today.

So here’s the thing.

I terminated this employee two days before this incident.

Grasp that for a second. 

I terminated an employee who never went home and passed away by a tragic accident.

And I will tell you I did it with the absolute best of intentions. If that’s even possible. The conversation I had was raw and real and honest and I truly 100% wanted the best for him and the working relationship was just not clicking. Not him. Not who he is. He was absolutely lovely. At Christmas, he bought me an h’ors d’hoerves set for my Guelph Girls Christmas party. I teased him and said I felt like he was bringing a teacher a gift at the end of the year. He was thoughtful and kind and wanted so much to find a long term career and a home professionally. It wasn’t a good fit and the job just wasn’t the best suited to him. And it was not an easy decision to make for a manager nor to deliver that message. It was heart breaking. I wanted so much to help him find his way and find a job that was a better fit for who he was. I offered to be his personal reference for his next place of employment. And it wasn’t lip service. It was as genuine as it comes. 

He struggled for a while. I tried different managers, different training, different approaches. Because I believe if you are ever going to terminate someone’s employment, that you better be sure you have done everything possible in your power to help someone be successful first. And I truly do feel like I did my best. I would own up to that if it wasn’t true and I would have sleep with that every night if I made that mistake.

He never went home. 

I keep repeating that line to myself. 

He never went home. 

Where were you out there in the streets of Chicago?

How were you so lost you did not go home?

What could I have done differently to change this?

I wanted to put him in a cab and he wanted to walk it off. What if I had forced the cab home? Was there a different plan for him anyways? Would it have happened regardless? I will never know those answers and I do believe it is a freak accident with awful timing but I can never change the clock back or have different results. And the emotions I have felt during this time can play demons in my head over and over that I need to permanently tame.

The past week I have had tears hit me at the strangest times. Unforeseen moments where I just stop and think of his family and think of how his life was shorted without him finding his place. 

I think of the Fall when he had pumpkins on his desk and the Winter when he replaced those with Christmas lights. I used to joke and ask what props he was bringing in for the next season. I think that he never got to see Spring in Chicago and that on April 17th he would’ve been 46 years old. Far too young to see the end of his life.

I look at Facebook and see some of our posts. The angry faces, the frustration, the emotions displayed without thought and at random moments of haste. The image we portray to others and so many people fighting and stumbling to find their place in this world. 

And I think of Todd. 

I see him come into my office at 7:45am. Talking about his Mom or his sister or whatever story he had to tell that day. Always talking about the weather. He hated the Winter and wanted to hibernate until Spring. Permanently wanted to work remote in the cold and how could I ever blame him. I used to ask him why he lived in Chicago if he hated the cold so much and to suck it up and come to the office.
(Chicago in February is miserable I will give him that.)

My message with this post is simple. We hear it everyday. You never know what tomorrow will bring. Kiss your spouse. Love your kids. Embrace your dark times as part of your journey. Find your love. Find your purpose. Don’t waste your energy with anger or fury. You never know when your number is called.

I don’t know why the world took Todd this early. I don’t understand why we ever lose people along our journey of life. I wish I could’ve helped him find his next job in a place he loved. But I can’t control it and I can’t change it. If I put him in a cab that day and forced it, how do I know if the outcome would still have happened?

I know one thing. That maybe I need to learn from him. Maybe I need to learn to stop the treadmill. Decorate for the seasons. Stop and smell the roses. Sounds so cliché, doesn’t it? But here we are. Grinding away. Alarm goes off. Coffee is on. Day begins. Groundhog day. 

How do we slow down and take in our surroundings and be more grateful for every moment and those around us?

My tribute to you, Todd, wherever you might be up there today, is my sole hope that you have found peace. And only you may know what that looks like for you. And may you shine down on all those close to you and lead us to a life of moments that we are so grateful for. 

Because isn’t that what it’s all about? 

The moments that take our breath away. The ones we live for. The Fall leaves. The first snowfall. The fireplace crackling. The twinkle lights glowing. The comfort of those you love. 

He got that. He truly did. 

I hope wherever you are, you see the snow melt and you find Spring. You see the season of hope and renewal. And I hope, more than anything, you are finding your way. And please know that your energy is missed. By your family. By me. And by the people you least expect. 

May you rest in peace.