September 15 was the eight-month anniversary of Mary’s death. Although eight months isn’t a number with any specific significance, it feels like the right time to share my experiences of this period.
I never imagined writing a blog on this subject, but life isn’t fair and here I go.
Many clients and friends have asked how I am doing and if my children are okay. I am grateful for their kindness and hope this blog helps to relieve their concerns—and also helps me look forward to the future with hope.
My regularly scheduled financial planning blogs will return next week. But if you read this blog, you will notice several important life lessons that I can offer from personal experience.
Let’s start with my children
My youngest daughter was and is my biggest concern, since she was only 17 when her mother died. But her resilience and positive attitude have surprised me.
Just before the pandemic hit, she participated in a volunteer mission in Belize. Ten youths from Canadian schools were responsible for helping local doctors and nurses provide free medical services to rural families. They also had an opportunity to mingle with local Belizeans and learn about their history and culture.
After 10 days away, she arrived back on an adrenalin high and couldn’t stop talking about returning next year to continue her work. Even the early days of the pandemic quarantine couldn’t wipe the smile from her face. She was transformed and started making future plans around social causes and medical assistance in developing countries.
But she also had several low points. Her school’s Grade 12 prom and sports activities were cancelled, and her social interactions with friends were limited. Increased isolation directed her thoughts to life before January 15, which made her sad and lonely.
Fortunately, she had good friends who communicated often, first virtually and then our patio. In addition, and possibly most important, she spoke with a grief counsellor every two weeks which helped her handle her loss.
My middle child, who lives and works in Denver, initially spent many hours in his old bedroom looking through family photos and listening to recordings of himself and his mother. I was worried that he was obsessing on his loss and would have trouble moving forward. We spoke for hours, and I could tell he was hurting. But I didn’t know what I could do.
Again, we turned to a counsellor and, over time, I noticed that the hurt was still there but the obsession started to fade.
Today, he has a wonderful and talented girlfriend, has recently earned a job promotion, and has moved into more accommodating housing. He still hurts but has found his own way to move forward while carrying his mother’s memories.
My oldest son works for a major bank in Toronto. Last year, he was offered a promotion and an opportunity to move to New York City. Unfortunately, the pandemic postponed his transfer indefinitely, but he continues to work with US clients and hopefully, in time, will travel to NYC in person.
He has a supportive, smart partner who practices law and has helped him work through the hardship of losing his mother. Together, they are classic HENRYs: High Earners Not Rich Yet.
He took a different approach to his loss. Always the most social member of our family, he constantly spoke with his many friend groups by phone, text and Zoom calls. When quarantine lifted, he visited friends as safely and as often as possible and arranged trips to Quebec City, Montreal, and Muskoka.
He saw a grief counsellor as well, but I think the biggest part of his healing came from his interactions with his friends.
So what lessons did we learn as a family during this tragic time?
Lesson #1: When dealing with any loss, the support of friends and professionals is essential. Don’t try to recover alone.
As for me, I have been working with a psychologist to help make sense of Mary’s death and deal with the substantial changes to my life. Many of you no doubt appreciate that losing someone close is perhaps the hardest thing to endure.

During the last eight months, I kept sane by doing many little things that gave me pleasure.
- Three to four times per week, I rode my bike. First on the indoor trainer and then outside when the weather improved. Recently, I began riding with small groups of friends. Exercise has kept the extra pounds off and clears my mind of negative and limiting beliefs. I’m proud to say that I have ridden almost 6000 kms so far this year, a personal best.
Every Friday morning, I joined my oldest son at Sud Forno for espresso and croissants. We discussed Mary, our grief, our work, and our futures. - Almost every week, I met one or two close friends to discuss how I felt and parenting issues.
- I worked every day answering client questions, writing blogs, recording podcasts and completing my latest book, Live Well, Stay Rich, Never Retire, which is now available.
- Monthly, I participated in a virtual meeting with my psychologist where we discussed anything on my mind.
- I read several great books on death and grief which helped me cope: The Year of Magical Thinking by Joan Didion, Finding Meaning by David Kessler, and Option B by Sheryl Sandberg.
- I watched a few Netflix series with my daughter, such as Suits and Narcos (I know Mary wouldn’t be happy with this parenting choice!).
I have also had to complete many difficult and sad tasks.
- I applied for CPP Survivor benefits for myself and my daughter. Surprisingly, I now receive a CPP survivor pension of approximately $500 per month and my daughter receives about $300 per month until she finishes her full-time studies. The pension will be integrated with my own pension when I turn 65 and will be capped at the maximum personal amount, which is approximately $1200 per month (no doubling up of CPP is allowed).
- I received a one-time $2000 CPP death benefit.
- I closed many accounts, including one we opened just after we were married. I now deal only with Scotiabank.
- I cancelled Mary’s credit cards and driver’s license.
- I rerouted our pre-authorized cheques to my bank account.
- I transferred the ownership of our house and Mary’s car to just me.
- I ordered a tombstone.
- I began paying all household expenses and tracking my cashflow.
In addition to managing so many tasks, I experienced several difficult milestone dates, such as Mary’s birthday, Mother’s Day and Easter. I also continued to suffer from survivor guilt, constantly asking myself what else I could have done for Mary, and I still have trouble praying.
Incidentally, Mary and I never thought she needed life insurance. I was the main wage earner, and I couldn’t imagine her dying first, so we allocated all our insurance funds toward protecting my income. This decision could have been a very big mistake.
When Mary died, most of our children were financially independent, we had no debt, and my business was profitable. So I didn’t experience a financial setback. But had her death occurred earlier in our lives, it would have caused financial hardship because of the additional expenses of replacing Mary’s contribution to the family (her income, child raising, house chores, etc).
The only death benefit came from my employer’s default spousal life insurance of $30,000.
However, during the almost five years of chemo, immunotherapy, surgeries, MRIs, PET and CAT scans, and medical appointments, costs were covered by OHIP and by my employer healthcare provider. I am grateful that we live in a country of universal healthcare regardless of financial status and that I work for a company with excellent health coverage. I have no idea how I would have covered these costs personally.
Lesson #2: Do not assume that tragedy or illness only happens to others. Instead, address your financial risks.
During this past eight months, I also learned that my friends and family had different ways of speaking with me.
I divided them into three groups: the avoiders, who didn’t address the elephant in the room; the self-absorbed, who compared their loss to mine; and the empathizers, who asked how I was feeling and brought up Mary during our discussions.
Needless to say, I have been incredibly grateful for the empathizers in my life.
Lesson #3: People who are grieving want to talk about their pain. As a friend, ask how they are doing and, when appropriate, talk openly about their loved one and acknowledge their grief.
Silence can be crippling and leaves the impression that you don’t care or can’t acknowledge their loss. Please don’t turn away from a friend during their difficult times.
Where do I go from here?

In Plan B, Sheryl Sandberg explains an interesting concept called Post-Traumatic Growth (rather than stress). She explains that it is possible to grow and become a better person despite a strong pull in the opposite direction.
Sandberg lost her husband in 2015 and writes that, in time, PTG can
- Increase the appreciation of life and all the little things.
- Put things into perspective.
- Generate a deeper purpose in work.
- Reveal new opportunities.
For me, I find passion with my family and in my work.
One of my mentors, Ray Dalio, writes in his book Principles that one of his is to “find meaningful relationships and meaningful work.” Despite the enormous loss in my life, I still jump out of bed every day, looking forward to speaking and interacting with clients/friends/family, and I am still challenged by the daily task of helping clients make better financial decisions.
Lesson #4: My principle can be summarized as Live Well, Stay Rich and Never Retire, and I intend to practice what I preach until my time on this earth expires.
In closing, my grief has not left (and I don’t expect it ever will), but my sadness is slowly being replaced with hope: hope for my kids, hope for my clients, and hope for a positive future for me.
If you have experienced a personal loss (death, career, divorce, bankruptcy, deception, etc) and want to share the experience with me, please call anytime or shoot me an email. I want to hear how others have managed a tragic loss. We can be there for one another. It’s important.
Never Retire Profile of the Week
Shigeaki Hinohara (1911-2017)
It’s never too late to learn about changemakers around the world who have much to teach the rest of us about living well. Dr. Shigeaki Hinohara—who lived to the age of 105—was such a person. A medical doctor who began his long career during the firebombing of Japan in 1941, Hinohara often shared his philosophy of life that he credited for his own longevity. His number one tip? Don’t retire. Or, if you must, do so much older than 65. He also believed strongly in having a clear purpose in life that matters deeply to you, moving your body regularly, eating a healthy diet, and finding joy in the various forms of art in the world (music, painting, dance, and so on). Finally, watch out for stress: a busy and productive life doesn’t have to be a stressful one. According to Hinohara, if we focus equally on the mind, body and soul—and never retire—we’ll live the best and longest life possible.
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source https://richarddri.ca/4-lessons-learned-since-becoming-widowed/

