I never personally spoke or shook hands with Corey Rudl, but I was his customer, his student, and ultimately an admirer. I can attribute much of success of my own online business to Corey’s teachings and principles. He was one of those rare birds that you didn’t have to meet to feel like you were on a first-name basis with him. Everyone in my little circle of internet marketing friends simply referred to him as “Corey” and we spoke of him warmly, as a friend and mentor. He set bar for all of us. We wanted to achieve his level of success. We wanted to hit his heights. We wanted to be entrepreneur that he was.

Corey had just recently married girl of his dreams. He was a millionaire many times over. He had a big house and fancy cars and a future so bright he had to wear shades. His business was thriving. Life was perfect. Corey Rudl truly had world by tail and there was no chance he’d ever let go. I imagine he was holding on tight until very end.

The lessons we learn from death of Corey Rudl are same lessons we always learn when someone so young and vibrant is suddenly taken from us. As entrepreneurs we should take those lessons and apply them not only to our own lives, but to our businesses, as well.

Lesson One: live everyday as if it is your last, because it just might be. As entrepreneurs we often think that our businesses have to come first on our list of priorities. It’s not until a tragedy reminds us that life is too short that we think about making time for things in life that are really important. Get out from behind your desk. Go play with your kids. Hug your wife. Call your mother.

Lesson Two: be passionate about business, but never let it eclipse your passion for life. Corey was a true entrepreneur whose passion for business was unparalleled, but by all accounts he also knew that a life devoted strictly to business was a life not lived to its fullest. Corey died doing what he loved. Some will argue that his passion killed him and in a way that’s true, but I have to believe that before he knew he was in danger Corey had a smile on his face a mile wide. He would not have lived his life any other way.

As I finish this column my oldest daughter has come in to ask if I’d like honor of taking her out to Sunday brunch. She’s seventeen now. She has a job, a car, and a life that is very much her own. Chances to be graced with her presence grow rarer with each passing week. Still, any other day I might have weighed her invitation against eight million business-related things that need my attention.

Today, however, decision is easy.

I usually end my column with words, “Here’s to your success.”

This week let me end with, “Here’s to your life.”

Tim Knox