How death brought new life, belatedly
In May last year, Eugene O'Kelly went to the doctor to check out a drooping cheek that he attributed to stress. He received a stunning diagnosis. The 53-year-old head of the accounting firm KPMG and father of a teenager was told that he had late-stage brain cancer and less than six months to live.
O'Kelly died in September but left a powerful legacy. During that last summer of his life, he wrote a memoir of his experiences: "Chasing Daylight: How My Forthcoming Death Transformed My Life" (
This seems like a somber choice of subject for a Father's Day story, but bear with me. Whether you're a dad or a mom, a workaholic or a good balancer, you'll find his story inspiring -- even uplifting.
"I was blessed. I was told I had three months to live," O'Kelly writes in the opening line of his book.
He goes on to say that having been warned of his impending death, he was forced to think seriously about how he had lived his life, and about how he would spend his last 100 days. As a result, he discovered a depth of living that he'd left far behind in his decades long sprint to the top of the corporate world.
O'Kelly, who spent three decades at KPMG, loved his work and he had the drive necessary to make it to the very top. Early in his career, he rarely took a vacation. He worked mega hour weeks and traveled 150,000 miles a year. During his three years as chairman and chief executive, he writes that he "sat atop the world."
Yet he's candid about the steep costs of his ambitions. He missed virtually every school event of his now 14-year-old daughter Gina . He writes that he'd worked hard for decades so he could spend an easy retirement with his wife Corinne -- a goal that disappeared with the diagnosis. Ironically, he was putting in superhuman hours while trying to make the firm more family friendly.
Most poignantly, he was working so hard in the spring of 2005, in part to prepare for a rare vacation, that he missed the early signs of his condition -- unexplained headaches and impaired spatial relations and balance. Perhaps he was not diagnosed early "because I had always had my foot to the pedal, never stopping to look up," he writes.
Thankfully, this is not a book solely about regrets. O'Kelly quit his job within days of his diagnosis and set about managing his own good death -- and living his life anew. It was hard, emotional work that did not at first come easily to him.
He decided to say good-bye first to 1,000 acquaintances, business contacts, and friends, then do so with his closest friends and family. He called these "unwindings." But he quickly realized that he was spending too much time focusing on his outer circles -- just as he had in the past. So he began spending more time with those he loved most.
In particular, he sought to restore to his life several qualities he had shunned as a businessman -- spontaneity, patient acceptance of the uncontrollable, and an uncluttered awareness of each moment. To his surprise, this new mindset seemed to slow time down. Rather than rushing through life fixated on goals, he gained a richer perspective from savoring the present, especially uncluttered small, everyday times.
The book has been an eerie read for KPMG executives who knew O'Kelly, prompting both soul searching and redoubled efforts to carry on with his vision of making the firm more flexible.
Bud LaCava, managing partner for New England, says the book made him ask if he'd "struck the right balance" between his family and the firm where he spent nearly 30 years. He feels he was there for his three daughters, now 18, 21, and 24, but now tries harder to nurture his private life. For a second year, he plans to takes summer Fridays off, echoing the firm's new efforts to encourage employees to "jumpstart" summer weekends.
"It did affect me," says LaCava. "If nothing else, I reflect more often on all of those things, and do make those things a higher priority."
O'Kelly was right to feel blessed. He had 100 days and a second chance in life -- an opportunity he didn't squander. We should learn from him. Too often, we wait for death to look us in the eye before we take a hard look at our lives.
Balancing Acts appears every other week. Jackson can reached at maggie.jackson@att.net. A portion of book sales will go to the Eugene O'Kelly Cancer Survivors Fund, which helps those in need who have lost a family member to cancer. 