What Are We Really Leaving Behind?

Today, as I was cleaning off my desk, I picked up an award I’ve been dusting for 16 years. A heavy, five-pound crystal token—an HR Excellence Award from my last job. The highest honor you could receive. A symbol of years of hard work and dedication.

And yet, as I held it in my hands, I felt… disconnected.

This award didn’t tell the whole story. It didn’t reflect the real weight I’ve carried. It didn’t capture the tears, the transitions, or the transformation.

When I retired after 45 years in the workforce—31 of them in engineering, and the last 14 in HR—I thought I was ready. But what I wasn’t prepared for was the loss of identity.

For decades, I was known by my title, by what I did. And then suddenly, I wasn’t.

And when I lost my husband not long after, another part of my identity slipped away. I was no longer a wife. I was no longer a coordinator. I was retired, alone, and quietly wondering: Who am I now?

That question haunted me for a while. Because we don’t talk enough about what happens after retirement. We celebrate the finish line—but don’t prepare each other for what comes next when the calendar clears and the phone stops ringing.

But it was in that quiet space that something new started to grow.
A whisper at first.
A pull toward purpose.
A reminder that while titles fade, calling doesn’t.

That’s when I started building Integrity Business Solutions.

Not just a business—but a mission. A way to take decades of experience and pour it into something meaningful. A way to serve small businesses with excellence and heart. A way to blend old-school relationship-driven service with new-school automation and strategy.

This isn’t just my next chapter—it’s the one I was born to write.

Now when I look at that crystal award, I see it differently. I see it as a steppingstone, not the pinnacle. A beautiful reminder of who I was—but not the definition of who I am.

Because legacy isn’t built from trophies or titles.
Legacy is built from courage, calling, and the decision to keep becoming—even after the world says you're done.

I’m not done.
And neither are you.

Let’s build something that doesn’t need dusting.
Let’s build something that lives on in the lives we touch.