Money doesn’t impress me. Nice places, amounts made, people flashing it around.
But it does register as deep care.
My grandfather grew up with no money, the son of immigrants from Greece.
And he built a life and created a legacy that took care of all of us.
The decisions he made, businesses created, buildings purchased, investments.
Three children and six grandchildren.
And care taken for every one.
My money from my grandfather provided for a large part of my life in my twenties. Allowed me to travel and paid for my trainings.
Even when he was alive he never said no to using this money – originally set aside for school – for something else I wanted to learn. Yoga. Shamanism.
A man his age could have rolled his eyes and said no. Instead he said, whatever you are interested in.
I felt like, what I care about matters.
My money from him ran out right after I met Jordan.
I remember it exactly.
I thought I was out of money but remembered a bit more in a different account.
It felt like him, reaching out to hold me.
I remember crying with this deep humbleness of how provided for I was.
His care, holding me right into meeting my husband. Gently handing me over to Canada.
And it still holds me, because while we can talk a lot about saving and investing, I spent all the money instead.
I spent it all investing in myself.
And I think he’d be proud of that too.
What more could he ask for really than the result of all his decisions being that I can provide for myself and others in a way that makes me happy.
His building just sold, this building he bought with a partner in a funny story that then became the cornerstone of the downtown square near where I grew up.
I grew up coming to this building, the bank building, going up to my uncle’s office, looking out over all the buildings and thinking we owned downtown (we didn’t, but I certainly felt important).
And in the sale of this building he continues to take care of his children, which trickles down to his grandchildren and now great-grandchildren.
This is legacy, to me, and I spend a lot of time thinking about the generosity and care of one man, to hold and provide for his family to such an extent.
It is a gift I know many do not get to receive.
I wish that we could talk now about business, that Jordan could talk to him about business.
I opened a yoga studio when I was 22 and he died just a month later.
But I still remember him coming to see the studio. Not knowing what he’d think, since he had a “real” business.
He was so proud.
His death was unexpected and was very difficult for me, for my mom, for all of us.
And I tear up every time I remember how much I have felt held by him since then, these ripples of past decisions he’s made.
Money doesn’t replace love, or presence, of course.
I was lucky to feel these things from my grandfather too.
And.. I think whether the person was there for us or not, sometimes when we are handed money we can take it for granted.
Instead of feeling the immense amount of care being given to us.
It is love, too, in a different form.