“It doesn’t matter how much you save, just do it regularly.”
Words of wisdom from my mother, the best financial adviser that I’ve ever had. She told me this a million times growing up. It made absolutely no sense to me. In a way, it still doesn’t. But, I did it, and I hope you are, too.
When my sister and I were little girls, our mother and father made us write thank you notes. I remember one time my brother’s girlfriend brought us pretty little bracelets. We dutifully sat down and wrote one thank you note together. When our parents found out they insisted that we write separate ones, but we succeeded with just the one. The note, after all, had already been written we told our parents, and thus won the battle!
When my husband died after an eighteen-month battle with cancer, I thought my life was over. There was nothing I wanted to live for. I was full of tears and self-pity. I felt lost and frightened and lonely. I was angry, self-centered, and, in my preoccupation with my grief, I fear I was boring. The truth is that by and large, no matter how calm and controlled and accepting a face she may present to the world, a new widow is miserable and can be a very difficult creature.