The Ides of March

I've always been a history and mythology geek. I loved learning about the Greeks and the Romans and all the things that came along with their eras.

Years ago I worked with this amazing attorney. He was a mentor and father figure and an all around wonderful man. He taught me a lot of great skills that have helped me get to where I am in my career today. He was one of the reasons I stayed with the firm even after I was quite burnt out. He was well respected in the community and his name still brings a smile to people's faces. His picture hangs in the law firm where his name remains on the marquee.

Every March 15th he'd walk up the stairs into the firm and in his great big bellowing voice he'd declare, "Beware the Ides of March!" I, of course, knew exactly what he was saying... because I'm a freak that way. I remember his face the first year I got to witness this when I yelled back, "Et tu, Brute?" It wasn't too much longer after that that I was assigned to be his legal assistant.

Mike passed away two and half years ago from cancer. But every year when March 15th rolls around I can't help but think of him and how he influenced my life.

His funeral was a standing room only event. The chapel was packed, the foyer was packed, and people were standing in the auxiliary halls. I was lucky enough to sneak a seat in next to the then current Clerk of Court who had paved the way before me as his assistant too. One of his friends wrote the following poem that was included in the handout at his funeral:

To Mike ~
I read of a man who stood to speak at the funeral of his friend. He referred to the dates of his life from beginning... to the end.
He noted that first came the date of his birth and spoke of the second with tears, but he said what mattered most of all - was the dash between those years.
For that dash represents all the time he spent alive on earth, and now only those who loved him, know that what that little line is worth.
For it matters not, how much we own; the cards, the house, the cash. What matters is how we live and love and how we spend our "dash."
From a Friend

I remember bawling when I read the poem to Jim... I wouldn't have ever imagined at the time how close to the end of his personal dash he was coming. How I wish I could tell you more about that time spent during his dash. There was so much more to Jim than so many people will ever know. Even those who feel they knew him really didn't know him. But that's another post and I've already taken this in a direction I didn't know I would head when I started... because clearly this pain is still taking over every aspect of my life.