Starting Over in Life: 8 Lessons About What Matters

Originally published 19 August 2024 · Updated 20 October 2026

It’s a sad part of life that many of us don’t really think about until something tragic happens. Not everyone gets the chance to grow old.

It took me exactly forty-nine years to the day to understand that, and several more years to start living as though I understood it.

On my forty-ninth birthday, my wife of fourteen years was diagnosed with terminal cancer. We were told she had, at best, months to live. Those are words you never think you are going to hear.

Before that day, we had a ten-year plan. Work as much as we could, build our savings, and enjoy a modest retirement together. Then, in seconds, all those plans changed.

When we left the hospital, I now had a new priority in life. I wanted to give my wife the best life possible in the short time we had left. Over the next three months, we made some of the best memories of my life. Those memories will stay with me for eternity. Then she was gone.

After she passed, work became my life as well as my way of getting through it. For the next two years, that was all I knew. Work had become my identity.

Starting over took longer than making a decision

I didn’t suddenly understand how to enjoy life again. I could see that things needed to change before I was ready to change them.

Looking back, these are eight things I was learning. Some came slowly. I still think about them.

1. I couldn’t change what had happened

Making peace with the past is easy to write and much harder to do. For me, it meant accepting that I couldn’t work hard enough, earn enough, or think long enough to change what had happened.

I could keep the memories. I could miss her. And, when I was ready, I could allow something good into my life again.

2. Other people didn’t have to approve of every choice

People have ideas about when you should retire, what you should own, and what a sensible life looks like. I had listened to those ideas for years.

Some advice was useful. Some simply described a life I didn’t want any more. I had to learn the difference without turning every decision into an argument.

3. I needed time, and I didn’t have to do everything alone

I used to say time heals almost everything. These days, I would put it more carefully. Time changed how I carried the loss. It didn’t make it unimportant.

If you’re grieving, you don’t owe anyone a recovery schedule. Talking to someone, accepting practical help, or getting counselling can be part of starting again. Being alone with it isn’t a test you have to pass.

4. Memories deserved a place in the budget

We had spent years putting things off for later. Once we knew how little time we had, making memories became the priority.

I haven’t forgotten that. A meal together, a day out, a conversation without looking at the clock: those things don’t need to wait until every bill is paid and every job is finished.

You still have responsibilities. You also have a life happening while you attend to them.

5. I had to stop keeping score with possessions

The house, the vehicle, the expensive phone. I could explain why I had bought each one. I was less comfortable explaining how much time I spent working to acquire the item, as well as to keep them.

I started asking myself one word: why?

Why was I buying coffee on my way to work instead of making it at home? Why was I going to restaurants so often? Why did I need a $1,500 phone when I used so little of what it could do? Why was I living in a 2,400-square-foot home and using about 15% of it? for my actual living space.

And why was I paying for streaming services I never watched because I was always working? When I put it like that, I didn’t have very good answers.

6. I didn’t need every answer before I started

I could question a bill without knowing my entire retirement plan. I could cancel something I didn’t use. I could spend less and see how that felt.

Those small decisions helped me believe a bigger change was possible. Waiting until I had everything worked out would have kept me waiting a long time.

7. Taking responsibility didn’t mean blaming myself

There were things I could influence: my spending, the commitments I accepted, the help I asked for, and how I treated the people around me.

There were also things I couldn’t control. Losing someone taught me that very clearly. I needed to act where I could without pretending every difficult part of life was something I had caused.

8. I had to leave room for today

There was always a reason to work a little longer. Pay something down. Put more in the bank. Wait until next year.

Eventually, I had to admit I was also afraid of losing the identity work had given me. I needed to find out who I was when I wasn’t always busy.

Living smaller helped with the practical side. Learning to enjoy that time took its own work.

What I carry with me

The life I built afterwards didn’t replace the life I shared with my wife. Her memory came with me.

If you’re starting over, one small beginning is enough for today. Call someone. Make a plan you’ve been putting off. Ask for help. There doesn’t have to be a dramatic announcement.

I used to have the mindset that whoever dies with the most toys wins. I changed my mind about that. For me, the person with the best memories has accumulated true wealth, in this game called life.

Live Life. Live Free. Live Your Dreams.