Tiffany Fisher

My father passed away two weeks before my ninth birthday. There was no illness. No warning. No long goodbye. Just a phone call that changed everything, my father had suffered a massive heart attack and was gone. My mother was suddenly a widow with three kids still at home, and I was the youngest. I was also the youngest of ten children, so the shock rippled through a very big family all at once. Life didn’t slowly unravel, it snapped. It was August 31st in South Louisiana, the Saturday night of Labor Day weekend and if grief wasn’t enough, a hurricane was brewing in the Gulf.

While we were at the funeral home for visitation, evacuation orders were announced. Hurricane Elena was expected to make landfall within hours. Power was already out in many places. Hotels were full or dark. Interstates were shut down and reserved strictly for evacuation traffic. Families were being turned around that were trying to make it to the funeral home. It didn’t stop the one’s who wouldn’t take no for an answer as they made their way down every backroad possible to show up for us!

We were faced with an impossible choice:

Leave and not bury my father the next day…

or stay and ride out the storm to lay him to rest.

We stayed! Our entire family spent the night in the funeral home. The next morning, we went to the graveside in hurricane conditions. Umbrellas were useless, ripped from hands, bent inside out, carried away by wind that didn’t care what kind of day this was for us. Our tears were masked by the rain pounding our faces. We laid my father to rest, right in the middle of a hurricane. My father had served in World War II as a military marksman. Long before I understood sacrifice or duty, he had lived it. And even in the chaos of grief, evacuation orders, and a hurricane bearing down on us, the United States Army showed up. They made sure his service was honored. At his funeral, the Army rendered full military honors: steady, disciplined, unshaken by the storm around us. The precision, the respect, the commitment to finish what was promised stood in stark contrast to everything else that felt out of control. In the middle of loss and uncertainty, they reminded us of something powerful: Duty doesn’t disappear when conditions get hard. That moment taught me leadership without a single word being spoken. You show up. You honor your commitments. You finish strong, no matter the weather, no matter the circumstances. My father’s service didn’t end when the war did, and it didn’t end with his passing. It lived on in the way others stood for him when he no longer could.

Then we took shelter with no power and limited food for days. Eventually, we made it home. I remember sitting there, exhausted and overwhelmed, when I heard my mother say something that has never left me:

“There is always sunshine after the storm and I don’t know how, but we have to find it.” What made that moment even heavier was this: my mother worked alongside my father. When he died, the business died with him. No backup plan. No safety net. No life insurance. Just responsibility, grief, and children who still needed her to lead. That was my first real life lesson in Keep Playing.

Not motivational speaker - keep playing.

Not pretend everything is fine - keep playing.

But the kind where you wake up, even brokenhearted, and do what must be done.

Keep playing through grief.

Keep playing through fear.

Keep playing when excuses would be understandable, but growth requires more.

That storm changed the trajectory of my life. It shaped how I live, lead, how I endure, and how I refuse to quit when conditions aren’t ideal. It taught me that storms don’t get a vote in whether you move forward, YOU DO! Leadership isn’t born in comfort. It’s forged in moments where quitting would make sense but staying matters more.

Keep playing through the storms of life.

Keep playing through the hard seasons.

Don’t make excuses, find the sunshine, even when the clouds haven’t cleared yet.

Keep pushing every day, not just to survive… but to thrive. Do not get comfortable and complacent during the seasons of sunshine and always be prepared to face the seasons of storms that will come.

I learned that lesson early as a young girl

And I’ve been #keepplaying ever since.