Imagine what words you would like imprinted on your own gravestone. What do you want to be remembered for? Your job? Your money? Your particular rung on the ladder of success?

I suspect that most of us have deeper desires than these. Have I lived well? Have I loved fully? Have I made a difference in the lives of others? These are the questions that arise when we ponder our mortality, when we try and put into a few words what really matters.

It makes sense then that we spend our time remaining attempting to fulfill more meaningful goals. Our decision-making should be shaped by this noble task. Each demand on our time, every fork in the road should be evaluated in the light of our imagined epitaph. If you want to be remembered for working late at the office, so be it. But if your wish is that your loved ones remember the many times you sacrificed career for family, then let that be your guide. The choice is ours to make. No one forces us to choose job over junior or bowling over bedtime stories. We make those decisions of our own free will and in so doing etch into marble the truth about our legacy.

In my business, it is difficult to avoid the reality of death. If I am not officiating at the funeral of someone, I am often counseling those who are grieving the death of someone they loved. As we reflect together over the impact the deceased had on the mourners' lives, I listen carefully to what characteristics seem to matter. Money, power or status rarely enter into the equation. Compassion, acceptance and kindness inevitably do. Even the orneriest son of a gun leaves those left behind remembering the moments, however few, of grace and beauty. It is easy to see what matters most to us.

It was the Roman philosopher Seneca who wisely proclaimed, "Money has never yet made anyone rich." The value of our lives is measured not by what we acquire but what we give away. For those willing to wonder over the worth of our already spent years, such truth will shape our future.