A Hard Goodbye. A Long Road Home.
You don’t have to do it all alone anymore.
The cost of doing life alone isn’t just financial.
I returned from a weekend that I'll remember for the rest of my life—but not because it was relaxing or restorative.
I had gone to visit my Aunt Ruth, who was in the hospice care of my loving and selfless cousins and a few various nurses. She was in pain, heavily medicated, and barely able to speak.
There were brief moments of lucidity. She was known for her witty one-liners. One of my favorites… My cousin asked her how she was feeling… Her reply? "With her hands."
When it came time to leave, I knew deep down this was the last time I'd see her.
I wanted to say a thousand things. I wanted to thank her for letting me come play at her house when I was a kid. I wanted to thank her for how she raised her 3 sons - one of whom is a "ride or die" best friend of mine. I wanted to thank her for being my godmother. I just didn't want to say the one thing that would make it real: goodbye.
I hugged her, I squeezed her hand one final time, and I left.
Then I got in the car—alone—and began a long, two-day drive home with my two dogs in their carrier and a heart full of sadness.
That night, I stopped at a motel. It was storming. I'm talking thunder, lightning, wind-whipping, dogs-shaking storming. After checking in, I parked the car in torrential rains, and somehow managed to juggle:
two nervous dogs
a wagon full of 3 bags
two thermoses
a backpack
All while trying to get the dogs to pee, rush into the hotel, and get to our room on the second floor.
It wasn't a crisis.
It wasn't dramatic.
It was just… exhausting.
And that's when it hit me:
Sometimes, the cost of doing life alone isn't just financial.
It's physical.
It's emotional.
It's logistical.
You are the only one:
To pack the car
To drive the miles
To say goodbye at the bedside
To cry in silence afterward
To wrangle the dogs and bags through a storm
To plan the finances, the meals, the future
To pick yourself up and carry on
This isn't a complaint.
It's just the truth that a lot of singles live with—and no one really talks about.
This is why I do what I do
I work with singles because I am one. I know what it's like to be strong and self-sufficient—and still wish someone could just handle it for a moment. I know what it means to carry the emotional load and the grocery bags and the retirement planning and the vet bills and the weight of doing it all.
So, when I help my clients build a financial plan, it's not just about numbers.
It's about creating relief. About making space for grief, joy, adventure, and rest—without it all resting on their shoulders.
If you, or someone you know, has been doing it all on his/her own, I offer a free 15-minute call to talk about what's on your mind, and what support could look like. No pressure. Just a real conversation with someone who gets it.
I hope to hear from you - or please share this blog with a friend.