I Had
a Choice to
Make

BY DIANE CRAIG
Corporate Class Inc.
SEPTEMBER 7, 2026

 

A year after I started my business, my husband was diagnosed with cancer. He was 44 years old. Three months later, he was gone.

My son was 12. My daughter was seven. And suddenly, I was a single mother with a business I wasn’t sure I could sustain.

I had a choice to make. Do I go back and work for someone else? Or do I
continue on the path I had just started? I chose to keep going.

Not because it was easy. But because it gave me the flexibility I needed to raise my children, and the belief that I could build something of my own.

 

When Loss Doesn’t Come Just Once

Four years later, I was away on business when I got a call. My daughter had been in a school bus accident. I flew home immediately. It was the longest flight of my life.

The next morning, the doctor told me there was no brain function left. She was 11 years old.

After she was declared brain-dead, I was asked if I would donate her organs. My son and I both knew; it was the right decision. The only decision.

And then, I began grieving all over again.

 

What You Do With That Kind of Loss

In the months and years that followed, I found myself asking a different
question. Not why did this happen? But what do I do with this now?

That’s what led me to become involved in organ and tissue donation and transplantation. It wasn’t something I had planned. It was something I felt called to do.

I started a foundation in my daughter’s name. I spoke about our experience. I became involved in organizations where I could contribute in a meaningful way.

It didn’t take the loss away. But it gave it purpose.

 

Continuing Anyway

Years later, I remarried. Two weeks before our wedding, my husband was diagnosed with a rare form of cancer. He passed away one week after we were married.

There are moments in life where you wonder how much one person can carry. And still, you keep going.

 

What I’ve Come to Understand

We all break. That’s part of being human. But I’ve come to believe that
breaking doesn’t mean we’re finished.

I often think of the Japanese art of kintsukuroi—where broken pottery is
repaired with gold and silver. The cracks aren’t hidden. They’re highlighted. Because they become part of the story.

I believe the same is true for us. The more we break, the less breakable and more resilient we become at the places we break.

 

What Strength Really Looks Like

For a long time, I thought strength meant pushing through. Not stopping. Not showing it. Not letting it affect you. But that’s not what I see anymore.

Strength is continuing but not unchanged. It’s allowing those experiences to shape how you see the world. How you show up for others and how you lead.

 

What I Carry Forward

Over the years, I’ve built a career working with leaders around the world. Helping them show up with presence. With authenticity. With the ability to connect. But that work is only meaningful because of what I’ve lived.

Because I understand, deeply, that leadership isn’t just about skill. It’s about humanity. It’s about how you show up when things are hard.

 

What Matters Now

At this stage of my life, I don’t think about slowing down. I think about
continuing with purpose. About staying connected to what matters and about contributing in ways that feel meaningful.

Because if there’s one thing I know, it’s this: We don’t get to choose what
happens to us. But we do get to choose what we do with it.