By Kenneth L. Hardin

One of the saddest things in life I can recall experiencing is attending two funerals where there were very few people that showed up to pay their respects. One was an elderly woman, who was in her advanced years, so I understood why her turnout was so sparse. But the other was a young man my age, who I recall as having been fairly popular amongst his peers. So, it escaped reasoning why no one showed up to acknowledge his passing. As I sat amongst the row of empty pews at his celebration of life, not really paying attention to the words filtering down from the pulpit, my mind wandered through a maze of scenarios as I tried to make sense of it all. I finally gave my cerebrum a break and rested with the thought that maybe he just didn’t live a life that mattered to anyone.

Too many of us go through life never having made an impression on this world or the people who occupy it. We’re all familiar with the story of the importance of making the dash between the day we arrive and the day we leave mean something. We’re all born with a purpose, but many don’t recognize or fulfill their purpose. That dash becomes nothing more than a placeholder to say you existed from one point in time to another. When I have to sum up the existence of a person, I fall back on the Ralph Waldo Emerson poem that reads in part, “That man is a success who has lived well, laughed often and loved much. Who has gained the respect of intelligent men and the love of children. Who has filled his niche and accomplished his task. Who leaves the world better than he found it…”

In that big religious book, that many only open on Sundays but use to judge and divide the other six days of the week, there’s a passage that warns us to live fully because. “…For ye know neither the day, nor the hour…” When you live a life with purpose and that purpose is to stand against injustice and fight for someone and something other than your own well-being, you have an inclination of when that day may come. Dr. King knew it the night before he was taken from us by an assassin’s bullet. I’ve watched the video clip of his famous “Mountaintop” speech many times. I’ve studied his voice pattern, his weary looking facial expressions and heard the acceptance and finality in his voice as he uttered words that would ring true less than 24 hours later. “Well, I don’t know what will happen now. We’ve got some difficult days ahead. But it doesn’t matter with me now because I’ve been to the mountaintop. And I don’t mind. Like anybody, I would like to live a long life; longevity has its place. But I’m not concerned about that now. I just want to do God’s will. And He’s allowed me to go up to the mountain and I’ve looked over. And I’ve seen the promised land. I may not get there with you. But I want you to know tonight, that we, as a people, will get to the promised land. So, I’m happy tonight, I’m not worried about anything. I’m not fearing any man. Mine eyes have seen the glory of the coming of the Lord.”

Not everyone will rise to the level of a King, but we have far too many court jesters occupying space and wasting breathable air. I made this point last week as I sat in my veteran’s facility helping a Navy brother put together a resumé. I told him there have been times I’ve helped people and had to be more of a magician than a writer because they had done nothing with their lives, and I had to magically create something to make them seem relevant. Therein lies the problem. We exact an unreasonable expectation on society that we have to achieve and accumulate wealth and materialism in order to be deemed successful. People that don’t have the opportunities or support to meet this ridiculous demand then look for nefarious ways to achieve this dream. It shows in our communities here that are filled with failed dreams now masquerading in drug deals, gun violence and overdose deaths. We need to change the narrative we’re pushing and teach our young people to be kind, compassionate and understanding instead of being greedy, manipulative and to succeed at all costs.

Death is the great equalizer and if anyone shows up at your funeral service, they’ll care more about how you treated your fellow man than what you achieved professionally or the size of your bank account. I posted this message on my social media page last week and it resonated with many. “You came naked, you will go naked. You arrived weak; you will leave weak. You came without money and things; you will leave even without money and things. This is life. Be kind. We have limited time on Earth, so  don’t waste it in uselessness.”

Kenneth L. (Kenny) Hardin is a member of the National Association of Black Journalists