We booked a 4-week summer vacation: Two weeks in Italy. Two weeks in the U.S. Italy was supposed to be our last big family trip as a family of four—one final adventure before the new baby comes. The U.S. leg was meant to visit my dad, who’d been in the ICU for five months after a mechanical fall. He was doing better than ever. Breathing on his own. Getting ready to leave the ventilator behind and start rehab. But three days into Italy, I got the call. My brother said, “Come home now.” Within an hour, we packed our bags, canceled everything, and booked a last-minute flight to the States. We landed in Vegas and went straight to the hospital. I got two hours with my dad before he passed. Just two hours. But we were all there—my husband, my boys, our entire family. The monks were there. And even in the heartbreak, I felt peace. That 2-hour goodbye cost me $28,000. Canceled flights. Rebooked flights. Nonrefundable hotels. Missed activities. Two weeks of plans wiped. And still—I’d pay it again. Ten times over. Because in the end, it wasn’t about the money. It was about being there when it mattered most. Holding my dad’s hand. Crying with my mom. Sitting shoulder to shoulder with my family.
In those three weeks, I never once looked at my credit card statements.
I never once stressed about expenses. The funeral alone cost $28,000. The monks—$5,000. Housing our 60+ relatives, feeding them for 5 days—thousands more. My sister even flew in world-renowned Buddhist monks from LA to Vegas for a one-hour ceremony for my dad. (I didn’t know we were THAT religious lol). My brother, sister, and I handled all of it. No hesitation. No back-and-forth. No resentment. We didn’t care the coffin cost $5k. Or the flowers were $500. Or the portrait was $800. Or the urn was $4,800. We told our mom: pick whatever you want. And we covered it.
I don’t think I realized how rich I really was until this experience.
Because for the first time, money never crossed my mind. I was just… there. Fully present. Talking. Laughing. Crying. Drinking with my family. Talking shit and telling stories about my dad. That’s what wealth is to me. Freedom to show up when it matters. No guilt. No stress. Just presence. And I wouldn’t trade that for anything.
We came back. Looked at our credit card statement. And just made a plan to pay it off this month. My husband and I didn’t even bother dealing with travel insurance. Didn’t call Booking.com. Didn’t chase refunds. Why? Because that sh*t drains us. We’d rather take the loss and remember how lucky we were to see my dad one last time— than waste energy soaked in frustration over money. That’s f*cking wealth. That’s freedom. No scarcity mindset here. Just abundance. $28,000 used to feel like a massive amount of money. Now? It feels like a hundred bucks. That’s the mindset I live in now. Wealth isn’t just about what’s in your account— It’s about how little power money has over your peace. Unconventionally Yours, Sam