What if your family received a call from someone who said, “We did the best we could.”
Something tragic had happened—and now, your health, your well-being, your future—was in someone else’s hands.
It’s a grim thought. A hard one to wrestle with. For as tough as you are, in that moment, your fate depends on someone else’s best.
And I can’t help but think about my family.
The pain they’d feel. The sadness. The quiet reminders of me still lingering in the house. The birthdays I’d miss. The laughs I wouldn’t hear. The hugs I wouldn’t give. The moments that could’ve been.
And if that day ever came, my first thought wouldn’t be about pain—it would be this:
Did I do the best I could?
I’m not always sure what “the best” really means.
Is it the time we give? The love and support? The sense of safety we provide?
Or is it the money, the roof over their heads, the grind that keeps the lights on?
I wrestle with that question.
But more than that, I wrestle with this:
What if my personal best… isn’t what’s actually best for my wife and kids?
Think about the motions you’re going through.
The “work” you’re doing. The energy you’re pouring into everything else.
Is it matching the energy you give your family?
Is your best being spent before you walk through the door?
What memories would they hold onto if you were gone tomorrow?
What lessons would they carry?
Would others still see pieces of you shining through your kids?
Life is loud. There are things that demand our attention.
But we choose where our energy goes.
And I don’t want to be the dad who only gives the leftovers.
I want my family to know—no matter what—
I did the best I could.
Think about this:
What’s one moment that made you pause and question your priorities?
A conversation, a breakdown, a missed milestone?
Let it guide you back to what matters most.