Courage, Confidence & Loss - A Personal Story

I hesitated to write this. Just over two months ago, my wonderful father passed away from Motor Neurone Disease (MND), and we’re still learning how to navigate life without him. India beats England at the cricket, and I instinctively reach for the phone to lament with him—only to remember, I can’t. A cracking rugby match unfolds, and I catch myself thinking, I must tell Dad about this—but he’s not there. I need advice and think, I’ll ask Dad—but I can’t. He’s gone. And that leaves such a big gap.

What Fills That Gap?

Deep sadness for what we’ve lost.

Immense gratitude for having had such a remarkable father and for all the incredible times we shared.

Relief that he’s no longer suffering.

Smiles at the happy memories. Laughter.

And tears—so many tears—as I work towards accepting this next chapter.

As I braced myself for this inevitable loss, a realisation struck me—every single one of us, at some point, faces the loss of a parent. Some never get the chance to know them. Some lose them too soon. Others, like my dad, leave this world after a long and full life. But this experience unites us all.

If you’ve been through it, I know you know.

And what helps? Seeing others survive it. Watching them honour their parents’ memory while continuing to move forward. Life moves on, and so do we.

But, as always, I ask myself: What have I learned? And what can I share to help?

3 Things I’ve Learned

1. Experiences Matter

We made the most of our time together—from European trips and rugby matches to cycling in Vietnam and boat trips in New Zealand. Even when my dad’s illness complicated things, my parents seized life’s opportunities.

Be intentional about creating memories beyond the everyday. Those experiences will be the treasures you hold onto when time runs out.

2. Leave Nothing Unsaid

After Dad was diagnosed, I wrote him a letter. I told him everything: what I loved and admired about him, what I was grateful for, our happiest memories—big and small. I even apologised for my annoying teenage years!

I also spoke about his legacy—what he should be proud of when he left this world.

I didn’t want to think, If only I had told him...

Writing that letter was emotional, but I’m SO glad I did it. It gave me peace, knowing he left this world without any doubt of how much he was loved. A letter like that might not be easy for everyone, but it’s worth considering. One thing is certain—you can’t tell them when they’re gone.

3. Time is Everything—Especially Towards the End

Every moment mattered. Popping down to see him, sitting together watching rugby, soaking in the time we had left—it was all precious.

Asking myself, Will I regret not taking this opportunity? helped me prioritise what truly mattered.

My Biggest Lesson? No Regrets.

Leave nothing on the table. No “I wish”. No “If only I had tried”. No “Maybe next time”. Our lives are so damn precious—just like these incredible souls who brought us into the world.

 So I ask you:

👉 Where in your life do you need to summon your most authentic confidence and courage?

👉 What are you holding back from because of fear?

👉 What needs to change so that you can live without regrets?

Honour life and honour them, by living up to your incredible potential.

With my very best

Caroline