What My Father Taught Me About Life
A reflection on love, belief, and remembering to really live.
Mon Papou d’amour
Hi Dear Ones,
I had planned to write this edition about a book I recently read. Then, a few days ago, my father unexpectedly passed away.
And suddenly, I had lost one of the greatest teachers of my life.
My father never wrote a book. His lessons came differently - through the way he lived, the way he loved, and the way he made the people around him feel. He was one of the greatest lovers of life I have ever known: endlessly funny, free-spirited, dancing whenever there was music, enjoying good food and a whiskey, deeply devoted to his family and children, and somehow always able to make life feel a little lighter.
But above everything else, he was my dad. My best friend, my biggest cheerleader, and the person whose belief in me shaped so much of the belief I learned to have in myself.
I lost him only days ago, so I am still very much in the beginning of the grief - not on the other side of it. But as I read his old messages, listen to his voice notes and scroll through memories, I keep thinking about what an extraordinary privilege it was to be loved by him.
So here I am, wanting to honor him by sharing three lessons - of the thousands he left with me - from someone who taught me, perhaps more than anyone, how to live.
Reflections Shaping How We Live
Love is not only something we feel - it is something we make sure others feel: My father loved loudly. He never assumed we knew. He told us. He showed us. When I had a hard time at summer camp as a child and wanted to take a break, he took me every day to work with him - stopping along the way so we could eat chocolate cookies together. When I was fourteen and had a crush on a boy at the gym, he walked over and got his number for me. That was Papa - always ready to do anything for our happiness. And that devotion never changed as I grew older. When I moved thousands of kilometers away, he would stay on the phone with me until two in the morning, sometimes simply keeping me company on a long drive home. Even well into my thirties, he patiently listened to work dilemmas, heartbreaks and, we debated life philosophies. Looking back, I think about how deeply I knew I was loved. We can care enormously about people while assuming they know. But my father never left love to assumption. He expressed it, demonstrated it, and made sure the people he loved could feel it. Perhaps one of the greatest gifts we can give another person is not only to love them, but to leave them with absolutely no doubt that they are loved - fully and unconditionally.
Believing in someone can change what they believe is possible for themselves: My father believed in me with an almost unreasonable conviction. Nothing was inaccessible. No ambition was too big. Whatever challenge I brought him, his starting assumption was that I would figure it out, and brilliantly so. In one of his last messages to me about work, he wrote: “Go and show them where your limit can be.” When someone believes in you that fiercely over a lifetime, something changes inside you. Eventually, you begin to borrow their belief until it becomes your own. He taught me how powerful that can be - as parents, partners, friends, mentors and leaders. The people who change us hold a bigger vision of who we could become, often before we can see it ourselves. My father’s belief became part of my internal voice. Every time I’ve dared to dream bigger, found the strength to keep going, or simply thought I can do this, there has always been so much of his voice behind mine.
Life is not something to optimize - it is something to live: My father was a true bon vivant. Music was almost always playing - Frank Sinatra, Ella Fitzgerald, Louis Armstrong. He loved dancing, good food, sports, family gatherings, a whiskey, and making us laugh until there were tears in our eyes. He was immensely proud of us, his children, and celebrated our achievements and hard work, but he never taught us to measure our lives by them. He taught us that life itself was the point of life. To enjoy what was already here while continuing to look forward to what might still come. In a world that makes it remarkably easy to postpone happiness - until the next achievement, the next milestone, the next chapter - my father taught me something different. Turn the music up. Eat the chocolate. Dance when you feel like dancing. Call the people you love and tell them how you feel. Laugh loudly. Enjoy what is here while it is here.
Words From Papa I’ll Keep Coming Back To
On Happiness:
“Habibet el alb [Love of my Heart] , you are born for happiness.” - Papa
On What Comes Next:
“Habibo, the best is yet to come.” - Papa
A Question I’m Carrying
If the people we love could still hear our voice within their own long after we’re gone, what would we want it to say?
With love, Vanessa