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  • Writer's pictureLife Done Simple

Dad’s Final Life Lesson: A Life Done Simple

Updated: Jul 29, 2020

A moment of clarity without action, remains a thought that passes in the wind but, a moment of clarity followed by action, becomes a pivotal moment in our life.


October 2018, under the cover of an oak tree I said “I Do” to my soul mate. I walked the aisle to my future husband solo; a tribute to my father who had passed less than three months earlier. Immersed in Mother Nature, surrounded by the people we loved most, it was a bittersweet day. Our first weeks as husband and wife were enjoyed exploring Bora Bora and New Zealand; finding freedom in living from suitcases and adventuring without commitment and the restraints of time. It was refreshing, liberating, freeing. Away from the noise of everyday life, I reflected.

Three months prior to his death, a single decision left dad without a home, money or job. Over two weeks, after selling what we could, what remained of his life’s work was packed neatly into a container bound for New Zealand. Dad worked hard his whole life, exchanging his time, health and relationships for money. He did this to provide his family with a beautiful life, private schools, family holidays and big houses filled with stuff. Truthfully, inside our big house, we were just a disconnected family, living our separate lives, filled with anxiety and depression. In the end, for all his sacrifices, Dad had a container.

At 64, he took his life. There was no letter, but I speculate that he felt an overwhelming hopelessness, and that he saw this as his only way out. I think The Minimalists put it best, “Job security, a concept that sends people out of their minds with stress. It’s the reason people jump from skyscrapers when they lose their jobs. Not that they’re unafraid of jumping - the jump itself is still terrifying - it’s just that there’s more security in death than in facing the real world and its myriad uncertainties.”

I’m ashamed that even when Dad needed me most, work remained my priority. I should have taken leave to be with him, not that I think the outcome would be different, but for a brief moment, I could have made his world a little brighter. The expectation to perform as usual was an internal pressure, perhaps instilled by modern day society, either way, it was misguided. Instead, I stole moments between meetings and paperwork to phone him, we shared rushed coffees before early starts and had take-out dinners after late finishes. Our last goodbye was at the drop and go zone of the airport. We embraced for a while, saying our I love you’s between tears before I rushed off to a meeting... If only I hugged him a little longer, enjoyed a last coffee together, had more time. Ironically after his death, I took two weeks leave to settle his affairs and grieve.

It’s a harsh reality to realise, I put work before someone I love. I understand now that I existed in a constant fear of losing my job, of suddenly no longer being worthy enough. So I worked the long hours, after all, I needed the money to pay for all my stuff, the big house and gym membership I no longer had time to use. I was attributing my self-worth, success and happiness to my job at the cost my relationships, time and true self. I enjoy my job, I really do, but given the opportunity I would rather travel, learn, cultivate relationships, give back to my community and collect new experiences, not exchange time for money.

It’s difficult to accept that this behaviour, this need for a job and this assignment of self-worth associated with it, is not in fact a burden thrust upon me by society or my employer. Rather this is a choice, a burden I create for myself. It’s my desire for more stuff, always bigger, always better, always more money. In this moment of clarity, I see Dads final life lesson. If I continue on this path, in the end, will it all just be for a container?

I experienced my pivotal moment, I found my truth and it inspired a change of direction to create a life I truly enjoy. To lead a more simple life, a life of intention. I want soulful conversations, less consumerism, more financial freedom, more time to love, to laugh, to be immersed in nature, to make memories and nurture relationships. You see, if it is my choice to seek value in stuff then can’t it too be my choice to change that narrative?

So we sold our “stuff”, keeping only the essentials and items that we truly enjoy. We began our journey to a happier more simple life and built a Tiny House on Wheels. One might even say this is our container, only on our terms. Inspired by the beauty and sadness in death, is a life done simple. I hope our journey will inspire others to live a more enriched life too..



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