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My name is Richard, and I need to tell you something that happened three months ago that finally made me understand what I'd done. I worked through every holiday for 35 years straight. Every Christmas. Every Thanksgiving. Every Easter. Every birthday. Every anniversary. I built a career in hospital administration that made me a regional director by 50. I had the executive position. I had the salary. I had the reputation as the guy who never took time off. My hospital system used me as an example of dedication. But here's what nobody knew. While I was working every holiday for 35 years, my family learned to celebrate without me. They learned to take the Christmas photo without me. They learned to say grace at Thanksgiving with my chair empty. They learned I wouldn't be there. And three months ago, at my 72nd birthday party that my daughter organized, my five-year-old grandson looked at me, tugged his mother's sleeve, and asked, "Who's that man?" I'm 72 years old now. Retired for seven years. I have more money than I need and more free time than I can fill. But my grandson doesn't know who I am. My granddaughter calls me "Mr. Robert" instead of Grandpa. My own grandchildren think I'm a stranger their mother invited to the party. And I earned every bit of that. And if you're out there right now, telling yourself you'll make it to the next holiday, telling yourself your family understands, telling yourself missing this one Christmas won't matter, I need you to stop and hear this. Because I said that 35 times. Thirty-five Christmases. And now I'm a stranger at my own birthday party.