Why Succession Planning Isn't Morbid, It's Mission-Critical

“If I die..."  I used to start sentences this way in team meetings. Not because I'm particularly dramatic or pessimistic, but because after years as a project manager hired to move innovative ideas and complex initiatives forward on temporary contracts, I learned something crucial: the work matters more than any single person driving it.

My colleagues would laugh - a few would roll their eyes. It was important not to overwhelm everyone, but most lean in to learn, because they knew what was coming next wasn't morbid - it was practical. "If I die, here's where the stakeholder contracts are stored. If I die, here's who needs to approve the next phase. If I die, this is the decision we made last week and why it matters for what you're doing next month."

It wasn't really about dying, of course. It was about ensuring that at any moment, if I wasn't available, the work could carry on without me.

That mindset didn't come from nowhere. It came from spending years in roles that always had an end date - six months, eighteen months, three years if we were lucky - all depending on when the funding ran out. I was brought in to move things forward, not to stay forever. And I saw, more times than I could count, what happened when someone left and took all the knowledge, all the context, all the relationship history with them.

Projects stalled. Partners got frustrated. New people started from scratch, reinventing wheels that had already been built. The cycle repeated.

So I made it my mission to never take ownership in a way that made me indispensable. Instead, I wanted to leave a template - a roadmap, really - so others could carry on.

I once walked into a project where the previous manager had left three months earlier. The first community partner meeting started with, "So you're the fourth person we've explained this to. Are you actually going to stick around?" Most board members and staff couldn’t answer the question of why it was done a certain way.  What were the implications for the project as a whole?  That frustration wasn't about me - it was about a system that treated institutional knowledge as disposable. Every time funding shifted or a contract ended, relationships had to be rebuilt, context had to be re-explained, and momentum was lost.

Here's what I learned: succession planning isn't just about replacement. It's about renewal. And it starts long before anyone's ready to leave.

Most organizations scramble when someone announces their departure. Who knows what they knew? Where are the files? What decisions were made three years ago that impact today's work? But real succession planning happens in everyday moments - in how you report progress, share decisions, and document not just what you did, but why.

I used to drive my teams slightly crazy with transparency. I'd send updates to everyone - from top-tier funders and steering committees right down to front-line staff and community partners. Not because everyone needed to act on every piece of information, but because everyone needed context. When my contract ended, I didn't want critical knowledge living only in my head.

After working on projects ranging from six months to three years, always knowing there was an end date, I developed some non-negotiables: Every decision got documented with the reasoning behind it - not just "we chose vendor A" but why their community ties and capacity-building approach mattered more than a cheaper option. Every key relationship had multiple touch points, so I was never the only person who knew a critical partner. Progress reporting shared challenges and near-misses, not just wins, because the next person needs to know what almost went wrong and how it was fixed. And templates got built in real-time, not as an afterthought.

Here's the uncomfortable truth: none of us are indispensable. And that's actually a good thing.

When organizations operate as if they can't function without one person - the long-time executive director, the founder who knows everyone, the project manager who holds all the vendor relationships - they're fragile. One resignation, one illness, one unexpected life change, and everything's at risk.

But when organizations build succession thinking into everyday operations? When they treat knowledge transfer as ongoing rather than a crisis response? They're resilient. They can weather transitions. They can grow.

I never wanted to be the person organizations couldn't do without. I wanted to be the person who helped build systems and capacity so strong that when I left, the work didn't just continue - it thrived.  That meant sometimes making myself uncomfortable. Sharing information even when I wasn't sure everyone needed it or would be open to receiving it.  Bringing others into decision-making, even when it would be faster to just decide myself. Creating documentation when I'd rather just do the work.

But it also meant that when my contracts ended - and they always did - I could leave knowing I hadn't just completed tasks. I'd built something that could outlast my involvement. Not everything did - I’ve witnessed failures too.  But here's what I witnessed more times than I could count: capacity and funding are linked. 

A project gets funded. You hire talented people. They spend months building relationships and understanding nuances. Then funding ends. Those people leave. And the next time similar funding comes through? You're starting over. All that learning, relationship capital, and hard-won insight about what your community actually needs walks out the door.

It's not just inefficient. It's exhausting for people trying to piece things together, frustrating for partners explaining their priorities to yet another new face, and expensive in both dollars and lost momentum.

Succession planning isn't about dying. It's about living the mission beyond any single person's tenure. It's about respecting the work enough to ensure it continues when you're not there. It's about building capacity that outlasts funding cycles and contract end dates.

If you're a leader in a small but mighty organization, ask yourself: if you weren't available tomorrow, could your team carry on? Not just survive, but actually move forward? Do they know where critical information lives? Do they understand the context behind key decisions? Have relationships been built beyond one person?

If the answer is no - or if you're not sure - it's time to start thinking about succession planning not as a someday project, but as an everyday practice. Because the work you're doing matters too much to be dependent on any single person. Including you.

If you're ready to build systems, clarity, and capacity that outlast any single leader or funding cycle, let's talk. Because succession planning isn't just about preparing for departures - it's about ensuring your impact endures.