By now, most of you have heard that on January 15th, my wife Mary passed away after a five-year battle with cancer.
I’m touched by the support I have received from all of you. Whether you sent comforting emails and sympathy cards, attended the visitation, attended the funeral mass or made a generous donation to the Princess Margaret Cancer Foundation, your support has been overwhelming.
My family and I will be eternally grateful. We thank you for being present when we felt our world crumbling beneath our feet.
I know that news of Mary’s death came as a bit of a shock to most of you. We are private people, and Mary insisted that we keep her diagnosis within our family and circle of a few close friends. She didn’t want anyone treating her differently because she was fighting cancer.
As you know, I view financial planning through the lens of life experiences and life events. This perspective is the basis of my belief that striving for financial independence is actually striving to live your best life and be your best self. So, I’d like to use this blog as an opportunity to share a bit about Mary and what she meant to me and our family. (Don’t worry – I’ll get back to sharing financial advice next week!)
While we were both in high school, Mary and I met on April 9th, 1980 at Hotspurs, a disco club near Yonge and Eglinton. I only remember this information because Mary put the date in my calendar and made a point of celebrating it each year. Mary never forgot an important date.
Our story goes like this: Mary went to the disco that fateful night to celebrate a friend’s birthday. Her group consisted of seven high school friends who had borrowed IDs so they could enter the club. The girls made a pact to stay together all night and not dance with “strangers.” Little did Mary know, she would soon break her promise.
At some point in the evening, I pointed out the group of beautiful girls to my buddies. At the beginning of the next song, my friends raced across the dance floor (without me) and asked all of the girls to dance. I was left alone at the bar with a drink and no dance partner.
Later in the evening, I gathered all the courage I could, walked across the lighted dance floor and asked the girl I had admired all night to dance. To my surprise, she agreed. We danced for an hour straight and afterwards sat at a private table and talked for the rest of the night. I couldn’t believe my luck. A beautiful, intelligent woman was interested in me!
At the end of the evening (I still don’t know how I managed it), I asked for Mary’s phone number, and she gave to me. I was 18, and she was 17.
That was the beginning of a 40-year love affair.
Our first date was a very funny event.
After a few days, I dialed Mary’s number and, to my horror, her mother answered. In a sheepish voice, I asked to speak with Mary. Her mother stated that Mary was at work, and she would pass on my message. As I hung up, I didn’t expect to hear from Mary again.
Surprisingly, she called back, and we began arranging our first date: a movie. Once we had settled on a plan, Mary informed me that she would need to obtain permission from her mother. After two very long days, she called me back (remember life before texting and email?!). Mary said she could go, but there were two requirements. First, she had to be home by 9 pm. Second, I had to pick her up at home and meet her mother.
What could I say? I was committed. I agreed to both requirements and focused on making a good first impression.
Despite my worries, the date went smoothly. I arrived at Mary’s home at 6 pm and met her mother, doing my best not to seem too nervous or too young. Mary and I then caught an early movie, and I had her home by 10 pm. (We were given an extra hour because Mary’s older brother intervened and persuaded their mother to extend our curfew. Thanks, Anthony!)
Our first date must have gone well, because Mary agreed to future dates and eventually agreed to become my girlfriend.
In 1985, Mary and I completed our business degrees – hers from York University and mine from the University of Toronto. We also began working at two different public accounting firms in downtown Toronto.
October 11th, 1986 was one of the best days of my life. I was marrying my high school sweetheart.
For our honeymoon, we spent two wonderful weeks in Greece visiting the historic sites and walking the beautiful (and deserted) beaches of Mykonos and Rhodes.
Once back home, we began our life together. We were the perfect couple. We commuted to work together, ate dinner together every night, shared intimate thoughts and began carefully planning our future. (Yes, she was as much of a planner as I am.)
Over the next four years, we lived the good life and enjoyed the “Before Kids” phase. Then, in 1991, everything changed with the arrival of our first child, Victor.
I wasn’t ready for fatherhood, but Mary knew exactly what to do. She took care of both the baby and me.
Two years later, Gordon was born. At that point, Mary decided to postpone her accounting career and stay home with the boys. I became the sole breadwinner and was responsible for earning enough income to keep the family afloat.
I have written often about the financial stress during our early years, but looking back, it is so clear that Mary choose the harder of the two jobs. I’m ashamed I didn’t give her enough credit for the time she dedicated to raising our two sons.
As the boys grew, our life filled with hockey in the winter and soccer during the summer, intermingled with swimming, karate, kumon, piano lessons, school plays, trips and too many other activities to list. Mary parented from the heart, and the boys loved her dearly.
Shortly after Victor’s 9th birthday, Mary took me aside and indicated she wanted a third child. I immediately said “NO.” Our life was just becoming easier as the boys were older and needed less of our attention. My business was finally profitable. Why would we complicate our life with another child?
Mary was persistent, and I finally agreed. Soon after that conversation, not only did Mary learn that she was pregnant, the first ultrasound revealed she was having a girl. We were both so excited and started planning for the arrival of our daughter.
Christine was born in October of 2002 and was quickly swept up in the stream of games and practices we attended almost every night. Occasionally, as we carted Christine around, someone would see the age gap between our first and third child and ask if Christine was from my second wife. When that happened, I would recount the story to Mary, and we would both laugh. (Mary had a great sense of humor. How do I know? She laughed at all of my jokes!)
Having become accustomed to raising boys, the arrival of a girl was a new challenge for us, but once again Mary jumped into action.
She knew exactly what was needed to raise a little girl and how to integrate Christine into life with the older boys. Mary happily did all the baby and toddler activities and, unlike me, never rolled her eyes about starting the child rearing journey over from the start. Pretty soon, I realized how wonderful it was to have a third child, and I have been grateful for Mary’s insistence ever since.
All three of our children have grown into wonderful, thoughtful, capable, focused people. I know that I played an important role in their upbringing, but there is no doubt in mind that the constant attention and endless love Mary offered our kids is the foundation of who they are today.
In August of 2015, we got the kind of news everyone fears might arrive one day.
Mary was initially diagnosed with breast cancer. However, additional tests revealed that she had ovarian cancer, which is far more difficult to treat and cure.
Between 2015 and January of 2020, Mary endured three major surgeries, 25 rounds of chemotherapy, semi-annual MRIs, and endless doctor’s appointments. Not to mention living with the constant stress and uncertainty that illness brings to your life.
On January 15th, Mary lost her battle with cancer.
I honestly think that when she finally realized her cancer wasn’t going to relent, it came as a shock to her. Through the entire time she was sick, she talked about how much she loved chemo because she knew it would help her get better. She believed it would help her return to what she loved more than anything – being an incredible mother, wife, daughter, sister and friend.
When I talk about the best self and best life people can live by achieving financial independence, I have an image of Mary in my mind. She lived her best life. A life full of joy, purpose, passion, love and optimism.
Writing about Mary’s cancer reminds me that I do have some life-advice to share in this blog. (I’m an advisor. What did you expect?!)
Ultimately, it was metastatic ovarian cancer that led to Mary’s death. But the originating cause was the BRCA genetic mutation.
We had never heard of the BRCA mutation until Mary’s diagnosis. When she took a genetic test that revealed she had the mutation, that led to further testing which linked the mutation to her father’s side of the family.
For your information, the BRCA mutation increases family members’ risk of getting breast, ovarian, prostate or pancreatic cancers. Also, the mutation seems to be hereditary.
Genetic testing is not usually recommended to the general public, but I urge everyone who has had a parent or uncle/aunt die of cancer to speak with your doctors about whether genetic testing is appropriate for you. If so, get tested immediately so you can be as proactive as possible about your health. Control what you can control, I always say.
In closing, Mary and I had almost 40 years of experiences that far exceeded my hopes for how my life would unfold. She was the love of my life, and I will miss her forever.
In time, I hope to find a way to move forward in my life journey as a father, son, brother, friend and business owner. As I do, I know that my work and relationships with you, clients and friends of the Dri Financial Group, will remain a constant source of purpose and inspiration.
Thank you all.
Richard
source https://richarddri.ca/my-gratitude-for-your-support-during-this-difficult-time-in-my-life/
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