Looking at my mentor’s empty chair the next day, I remembered a story I’d once read in the newspaper about a man who worked hard for decades so that he would be able to retire at sixty-five and travel the world like he always wanted. But he never ended up retiring because he was scared he didn’t have enough money, so he kept working “just one more year”—year after year. Then his heart gave out, he died at his desk, and his kids had him cremated and ended up traveling around the world with his ashes in a tin can.
