Any Regrets?

Growing up on a dairy farm in Nar Nar Goon, Gippsland Victoria, the expectation was to either pursue a trade, or continue the farming life. However, this path wasn’t for me. At seventeen, I fled to the big smoke (well to Carlton in a shared house with seven other people) to start my new life.

A few years later, a friend and I found ourselves working in Park City Utah, a ski resort in the USA. We were having an amazing working adventure whilst continuing to scheme how we could hustle getting our next job, perhaps in New York after the ski season ended. Exhilarating times!

The excitement however soon took an abrupt turn. An 'aerogram' from my older sister arrived with the blunt message, "Phone home now and get your arse back to the farm – mum is dying of cancer."

You see, during that time I didn't have a landline in the USA. There were no mobile phones, no internet, and long-distance calls were expensive. Being young, carefree and without commitments, I wasn't inclined to call or write home much. Consequently, I had no idea of the distress that I was causing by being inaccessible.

One week later, I was ensconced back home on the farm, spending the rest of the year alongside my family, and taking care of mum.

It felt selfish and indulgent to ask, but knowing that mum wasn’t going to make it past her fifty third birthday I wanted to know, did she have any life regrets?

Growing up in what felt like a parochial, religious farming community was, for me, suffocating. With my newfound 'worldly' perspective, I also believed that Mum was constrained by her working-class background, with limited options, ultimately becoming a victim of the societal norms prevailing during her time. It's ironic how my naive twenty-two-year-old brain was so quick to label my mother's life as 'restricted and suppressed'!

So, taking a deep breath I asked mum about any regrets that she might have had. To my surprise, without hesitating, she answered, "Yes, I wish I could have had 12 kids. Having 9 is great, but I always wanted 12!"

When I responded with, “That was it, no other regrets! Come on mum, you can’t be serious, there must be others”. “Yes, I am serious. That’s my only regret.” Her response was unequivocal. “It’s a bugger that I'm dying, but I’m living the life that I always wanted, on a farm surrounded by a bunch of kids”.

This struck me like a lightning bolt. Mum was living and always had been living a rich and liberated life, with absolute clarity on what truly mattered to her. It was only when I asked that crucial question about regrets, that I recognised her unwavering commitment to her dreams.

Mum was a stoic woman of her times. She just didn’t indulge in sharing one’s goals, dreams, and visions! However, only then did I discover her lifelong dream… to live in a rural community, run a farm (a small business) with my father, be surrounded by a large family (12 kids to be exact), and actively engage in a church where she could give back to others. And give back she did!

Every year, as International Women's Day approaches in March, my thoughts gravitate towards reflecting on my mother's life. I’m reminded of her internal and resolute clarity on what was important in life—her own aspirations, not mine or others, nor of any passing fad—and the courage to go ahead and simply live that life.

Mum, your legacy continues to challenge me to serve and make a difference! You inspire me to live my life with clarity, purpose and without (or limited) regrets. For that, I am eternally grateful.

Wishing you a wonderful regret-free week.

Richard Dore
CEO - Director of Partnerships
Proteus Leadership