What my dad’s retirement taught me about success
It’s taken me awhile to collect my thoughts about this post because its subject means so much to me.
I want to tell you about my favorite guy in the world—my 77-year-old dad—and how his recent retirement confirmed what I always hoped to be true about success.
But first, I have to tell you that my mom, sister, and I were not thrilled about the idea of my dad working until he was almost 80. We wanted him to retire years before he actually did.
If there’s one thing you should know about my dad, though, it’s that he wakes up each day wanting to help people, and his work is one of the biggest ways he did that.
We eventually realized that asking him to retire was like asking him to stop living his purpose. So even though it meant standing by while he worked full-time (and then some) until two months ago, we supported my dad and encouraged him to step away on his own timeline.
My dad spent 27 years as the attorney for Flagler County, Florida. On the evening before his last day of work in August, the county threw a party in his honor.
I was there, of course (I wouldn’t have missed it for the world!), and I was beside myself.
On the one hand, I was looking forward to my dad having some time for himself. My parents live on the beach, so I imagined him taking long beach walks, reading in the sand, and riding his bike, which are some of his favorite things to do.
On the other, I felt sad. I can relate to my dad’s reluctance to retire because I feel the same way about my job: I can’t imagine my career coming to an end. And even though I know that there are so many other ways for my dad to continue to live his purpose of serving people, I can imagine how emotional of a day it was for him.
Sitting in a room filled with dozens of people my dad worked with and fought for over the years was like seeing his legacy laid out before me. As people came up to share their memories of and deep appreciation for my dad and his impact, I heard stories that were familiar and some that were not:
I was reminded that at the start of his legal career, my dad practically had his pick of firms, but he chose non-profit law so that he could advocate for people who didn’t have anyone to advocate for them. He could have made a lot more money elsewhere, but instead, he followed his heart and his desire to make a difference.
He built his career in public service by becoming the country attorney in the place where I grew up. Two of my dad’s biggest passions are historic preservation and environmental conservation, both of which are so important to protecting our quaint beach town and keeping it feeling like a little slice of undiscovered heaven.
At the ceremony, person after person stood up to share how my dad had had an impact on them, on our county, on the state of Florida, and even on our country.
One woman shared that my dad helped her get an abusive puppy mill shut down. She said she brought one of the dogs with her to his office on the day they worked on the case together, and to her horror, the dog had an accident on my dad’s office chair. She said she remembered profusely apologizing and my dad quickly reassuring her that it was no big deal—it was more important that they get back to work and save those puppies.
Another woman shared that she used to be a server at a restaurant my dad often used as a makeshift office. He would get a table, spread out all of his legal files on it, order a meal, and work for hours. One time, this woman—who often served my dad when he was there—asked him what he was working on. At the time, he was trying to shut down a juvenile detention center that was abusing children, so he explained the case to her and how he planned to win it. She said that that conversation is what inspired her to become a lawyer. My dad was the reason she went to law school.
Two women drove four hours from the state capitol to honor my dad and share how vital a resource he was to the state, especially in forming laws around beach vacation rentals. They talked about how he always went out of his way to answer questions he didn’t have to answer and how he influenced the creation of laws that are still in place today.
Several people spoke about my dad’s impact on our county’s beaches, which have been hit hard by hurricanes over the years. My dad helped facilitate a partnership between the county and the Army Corps of Engineers to renourish the beach and strengthen it against erosion and future hurricanes—a challenging project that required getting every single homeowner to agree. It took years, but my dad didn’t give up, and the project is finally moving forward, all thanks to his perseverance.
But so much more than his legal accomplishments, what stood out to me was how people described the way my dad made them feel.
The police chief got choked up as he talked about a time when my dad asked for his help with a project. He shared that getting that call from my dad was like getting invited to sit at “the big kids’ table,” and that my dad always made him feel special.
My dad’s right-hand person, his deputy county attorney for years, said that no matter how busy things were in the office, my dad always encouraged him to go to his kid’s school events. My dad would remind him that he would never get this time back with his family and that it was more important than any legal work. My sister and I were out of the house by then, so my dad often stayed late to help his deputy finish his work so that he could go home and be present with his family.
The way this room of people honored my dad was nothing short of inspiring. They spent hours and hours sharing how he has touched their lives. They also dedicated a park bench to him on the path of his favorite historic site; swore him in as an honorary deputy; presented him with a picture of the beach he helped protect with signatures of each person who worked with him on the project; gave my mom flowers to recognize her own tremendous contributions and sacrifices to the county; and even read a proclamation declaring my dad’s last day of work “Al Hadeed Day” in Flagler County. It took my breath away.
I think what was most powerful about it—and what I was least expecting—was that I got to experience all of this at the midpoint of my career. I got to see the impact of a career spent in service of others. And what I realized is that it’s really true: The best measure of success is in the difference we make in the lives of others and how we make people feel.
It’s one of those things I’ve always heard and believed in, but at the same time, it’s like, how do you know if it’s really true? How can you know until you get to the end of your career and you are looking back?
But for me, this was that moment. I got to see through my dad’s eyes what it feels like to look back. I got to have the opportunity to recalibrate myself and refocus on how I want the second half of my life and career to go. What a gift.
Sometimes I can’t help but get caught up in what I’m achieving. I focus only on the goals I’ve set and the tasks I need to complete to achieve them. The problem with that is that I end up chasing a moving target. And if you’re always doing that, you might not ever feel truly successful because as soon as you accomplish one goal, you’re onto the next one.
When you keep yourself so focused on the tasks at hand, you can lose sight of how you want to show up and treat people. (A great exercise to help bring this front-and-center is to write your own eulogy—a coach had me do that once, and it was so powerful.) And even though I know this, I’m human, and I still sometimes get caught up in my accomplishments.
My biggest takeaway from my dad's celebration is that the true markers of a well-lived life are completely within our control: How we treat people, the ways we show up for others, the values we choose to live by—all of that is up to us.
I’m so thankful to my dad for being the person he is. I am so honored to be able to use my platform to honor a man who is a hero to everyone who knows him. Thank you for giving me the space to celebrate him.
If this post touched your heart, will you reply and let me know? I will share each and every response with my dad. (When he has time to read them, that is! Just as I suspected, he is keeping busy!)
Next week is our company’s Break Week and our team is off, so I’ll see you back here on Tuesday, Oct. 7th!
Big hugs,
