The eight hour goodbye: seen through the life of an orchestrator dad.

To an orchestrator dad, direction brings calm. Order gives love a place to land.

It was Thursday afternoon when the call came.

Mike's sister called. Her voice had weight and restraint.

It's about great aunt Ruth. She's fading Mike. She's in hospice. The window to see her is narrowing quickly. Mike said, got it. He reached for his legal pad, not for notes alone, but for structure. He asked questions of his sister with precision. Who's with her right now?

What's the nurses read?

When are visiting hours? Who's on their way?

He wasn't collecting data for himself. No, he was stretching the framework.

of what needed to be done. He was spreading out the vision so he could lay out the scene and begin the music. He wanted to know who was in motion, who needed direction, and who else could take the lead. By the time he set the phone down, a shape had clearly emerged. 

He and Lily would leave Friday at four, arrive near midnight at the small, sleepy town. There they would rest and be at the hospice doors just before nine. Saturday would be their day with Ruth.

They'd leave that small town around five or six, drive halfway home, maybe a little bit more, grab some sleep and finish their trip in time to be home for church at 9:15 on Sunday morning. But this plan that Mike was putting together wasn't just for him.

As an orchestrator, he instinctively knows who else can hold the baton. He quickly sent out two separate texts, one to his cousin, Laura, who had the natural calm of a caregiver her whole life. And he sent another text to his brother, Daniel. Daniel thrived on logistics. Laura, he said in his message, can you anchor bedside time with Ruth?

You have the presence that she trusts most. Daniel, he zipped off a text to, can you oversee family transport? Make sure drivers know when to rotate. I'll take care of Lily. We'll be there Saturday. That's how we'll show our support. The responses came quickly, almost in unison. Yes, said one got it, said the other already the orchestra was tuning.

That evening, Mike passed by Lily's room. Hey sweetie, we're going to go see Aunt Ruth. She's not well, so tomorrow after school we'll make the drive. We'll spend Saturday morning with her a little bit in the afternoon and then come home. So we're back in church by Sunday morning, 915. Lily frowned. Well, who will help her until we get there?

And what about when we leave?

Laura's with her tonight. Daniel's coordinating who's arriving tomorrow. We're part of a bigger plan. We're part of a bigger team. We're going to do our part, Lil. Our part's clear. She seems steadied by that. It mattered to her that someone was in charge, but it mattered even more to see that everyone was in charge of something.

Friday morning, Mike checked through his system one more time. He booked the hotel with points, printed out directions, packed a cooler.

but he didn't carry the whole trip in his hands. He'd asked his sister to bring aunt Ruth's favorite hymn book, the one she's been singing from since she was a eight year old child. He asked an uncle to bring in those lemon candies Ruth always loved and she smiles whenever she sees them. She might not take it, but let's have it anyway. Orchestrators, they don't do everything.

but they definitely play their role to make sure if it's up to them, everything gets done.

At 3:20 in the afternoon, Mike stood outside of Lily's school by 3:40. She was buckled in her pillow behind her head, a neat folder of snacks between them on top of the folder was a simple, slim envelope. What are these? Lily asked, these are cards. And if you think of any questions for aunt Ruth, write them down that way in the moment.

with so much going on, you don't lose them. Can you do that while we drive? Yes. She said in the drive, the drive, it unfolded like a score faithfully followed by the orchestra. A pause: at a diner he'd already vetted 30 minutes in and out back on the road before the sun was fully gone from the horizon. He checked in with Daniel by phone. Yep.

The folks from out of state, those cousins had landed safely. He was getting them where they needed to be. Laura had covered the afternoon shift at the hospice and another cousin had volunteered to bring flowers. Each person, each section of the family was playing a part by 11:48 PM, Mike saw the hotel sign glowing ahead on the road. Lily had been out for hours.

Check in on the app. Smooth. Lily adjusted, transitioned pajamas in bed a little bit after midnight. Alarms set for eight o'clock in the morning. He wanted to make sure they were well rested so they could be their best for great aunt Ruth. Saturday morning, they moved with practiced rhythm. Breakfast, repacking, exiting the room.

All done arriving at hospice at 8:55. Mike liked being a little bit early. He could park, walk with Lily, show her the sign-in process and place his name neatly on the line beneath others who are already there. He wasn't the first one there that morning, but he didn't need to be. He was part of a sequence that was already running. It was bigger than him and he was okay with that.

Inside Ruth's room, chairs were drawn close. Laura sat near the bed, her hand resting on Ruth's arm.

Daniel stood near the nurse, scanning updates and asking questions the whole time. Quiet, whispered, making mental notes. The room hummed with this quiet coordination. As Mike stepped in, he nodded once to Laura, once to Daniel, once to the nurse.

He didn't take over, but he took his place. He cozied right up and said, Hey, aunt Ruth, it's Mike and Lily's here.

Ruth took a deep breath, opened her eyes, and with a faint smile, lighting from her face, hey, bright eyes, she said to Lily.

That was Mike's cue. He guided Lily to the chair just beside him.

He was noticing when Ruth was alert and when she was drifting. And with a glance, he and Laura traded the lead. When cousins arrived, Daniel took over gently gesturing them into certain spaces at certain times without disrupting the room. Mike kept Lily engaged and then pulled her back, not overwhelming her.

Walking her to the chapel, walking her to the restroom, pointing out different things along the way. And when Ruth got tired, he said, Hey sweetie, come look at this. See this guest book here. See how everyone carefully writes their names. Every person who shows up leaves a mark. That's how family remembers together. No one mark is more important than the others, but they all work together.

Time stretched out on that day. It wasn't rushed. It wasn't wasted.

Stories in that room, they rose and they fell. Every once in a while, somebody brought the room to laughter. But for the most part, it was calm. One of the nurses paused at the doorway and Mike grabbed her attention. He asked gently, Hey, what's the best window for ant Ruth's energy?

Is tomorrow probably going to be like today? Yes. The nurse answered. Mid morning is the highlight of her energy. The rest of the day she's in and out. He mentally logged it away knowing that Laura would be around tomorrow to run the plan. By late afternoon as shadows lengthen across the hospice courtyard, Mike knew the baton was ready to pass.

We'll take our leave now. said, Laura, you'll hold the evening and Daniel, you've got the morning. Great job guys. Thank you so much. We're going to be on the road by five o'clock today. We're going to be able to go about five hours and rest up. We'll be up early, finish our drive so we can get the church.

They nodded, no words needed, no confusion, that makes sense. Everyone knew the sequence.

Mike exhaled, this is good.

Back in the car, Lily looked tired, but thoughtful.

It worked, Dad, didn't it?

Yeah, it worked Lily because everyone knew their part. And when everyone knows their part, love has room to breathe. The highway opened before them. The first stop for the night was five hours away. He gave himself wiggle room for an emergency bathroom break. If there was any sort of issue with the car or if he needed a little boost of caffeine, but they didn't. They went five hours and the system held the team was in motion and the music of this day lingered even as the night took its turn.

The highway stretched dark and even the car carrying them away from that small town with so much love.

Lily was asleep before nine o'clock. Her pillow tilted toward the window. Mike, he kept his eyes steady on the road at the five-hour mark, just as he thought, they rolled in to the hotel. Again, clean, uncomplicated, chosen not for flourish, but for function. Check-in took two minutes.

Points covered the stay. The app made it all happen. Within 15 minutes, Lily was tucked into bed and Mike set his alarm for 5:45.

He laid out his church clothes, her church clothes, put the car key, wallet and phone on the desk in one neat line and said,

This is good. Orchestrators. They like to clear the clutter before they rest. Order is what allows good sleep. Morning came with the alarm exactly as planned. Mike was up almost simultaneously when it sounded, hopped up shoes on bag zipped, leans over to Lily, kissed her on the forehead.

Time to move bright eyes. We're going to grab a bite to eat in three hours. We'll be in church. Here's your church dress. She stretched and she followed his rhythm. Bathroom, breakfast, car, no wasted motion.

They pulled out about 6:15, 6:20. The road was clear, calm, quiet, empty as expected on a Sunday morning. The air, the air still held the chill of dawn. Mike got to the open road, set cruise control on steady and he knew that margin was his friend. He's probably gonna be just fine. Then, voice to text.

Send Daniel a message.

You're on with Ruth today, right? He asked.

Message comes back, one word, yes.

Then the next message, Laura will be there after lunch. Everything's covered. Mike smiled to himself. It was all in place. He didn't need to hover. He didn't need to micromanage. He had passed the baton. The music was still playing.

After making sure he wasn't sending any more messages, Lily broke the silence. Dad, what do you do if not everyone knows their part? Mike said, somebody needs to show them. If it's me, of course I will. But once they see it, they can carry it. That's how families work best. We don't need one conductor dictating every measure.

We need people who know when to come in, when to rest and when to take the lead. Lily, she sat there. She thought for a while and then kind of out of the blue, she just said, so today Daniel and Laura are leading and we, what, what, what are we doing? Mike said, we'll arrive at church on time.

We'll be there when we're supposed to be. That's our part of today. And just like an orchestra. Finishing the final note at 9:12 the steeple came into view. Mike parked at 9:13. Turned off the ignition at 9:14 and rested his hands briefly on the wheel. He looked at Lily. We made it. Just in time, she said, smiling at her daddy. They walked into the sanctuary together. The hum of voices began to rise around them.

Mike looked around. To most it was a normal Sunday morning. But he knew better. This morning was the continuation of a larger score. Not just Thursday's call, Friday's drive, Saturday's gathering and Sunday's return, but a larger score that had been going on for generations in his family. Each part indeed was linked.

Each roll had been filled and each step was in order. As they found their pew, Lily tugged at his sleeve. Hey, Dad? She whispered. Yes, sweetie.

You said everyone has a part? What was Aunt Ruth's?

Mike tilted his head and caught a glimpse of light filtering through the stained glass window beside him.

She taught us presence, sweetie, how to anchor a room without saying much at all. She held us all steady. Even when she didn't try, that was her part. The service began, voices rose and Mike let the music wash over him. For him, this was the true afterward to Ruth's story.

Not a disruption, not chaos, but harmony as we're entering her last notes. He had passed the baton and the orchestra was still playing.

Dads, if you can relate to this orchestrator dad, that is one of your natural dimensions of motivation. And if you want to learn more about these eight different dimensions I've been talking about, go to motivationcode.com and take a look around there. You can also reach out to me and I have a few limited free MCode assessments that I can give out, please reach out to me and ask for one of those. We'd love to put this in front of you. It is one of the most powerful tools I've seen in terms of human insight.

Thanks for listening to the Smart Dad podcast, the eight hour goodbye as seen through the eyes of an orchestrator dad. Dads, we can do this together. Now go out and be a smart dad.