Everything I Am – The Irrelevant Investor

The most important thing that determines how successful you are in life cannot be quantified.

Success is a loaded word that means different things to everyone. I think about success at its core, as happiness. If you’re rich and miserable, you’re not successful.

There’s a hierarchy of happiness with health as the foundation. Then there’s everything else: family, friends, financial stability, and so on.

It’s hard to quantify who will have success in life because it’s not based on finances or zip codes; it’s based on love—love from your parents. I’m not sure how you measure love, but I got it in spades.

I would say that I’m pretty successful in life. I’m healthy. I have a loving wife and two boys who I adore. I’ve got great friends, partners, and coworkers. I love what I do, and I make a nice living doing it.

I’ve been thinking about all of this stuff lately. Life has been on my mind.

After my mother died, I was lost. Now that I’m in a better place, I find myself adjusting to these new circumstances. It’s a mental transition that’s taking longer than I would have guessed. To be clear, I’m not mad about it. This feels right. I don’t want to forget who I am or how I was raised.

My new life—let’s call it professional success—comes with things I’ve never experienced before. A few examples: People want to talk to me, even seek me out, because they think I have something to offer. I’m still blown away that we have sixty employees whose livelihoods we’re responsible for. And I feel blessed beyond belief that I have the means to take my family on vacations.

I had everything I needed growing up, but I wouldn’t say that money was abundant. And even still, I never thought I’d be able to give my kids some of the things and experiences that my parents couldn’t give to me.

I’m sure I’m not the only one who thinks about these things, but I get the sense that some people go through life a million miles an hour and don’t spend time thinking about where they came from and where they want to go.

My mother’s death gave me the gift of not taking anything for granted.

I’m writing this now because she would have turned 70 today. If Blanche were alive, she would be celebrating with the children she has and the grandchildren she never got to meet.

I owe my mother and father everything. Their love, support, and encouragement gave me the tools I needed to be successful. I hope to give my children the same gifts that my parents gave to me.