Love, Loss, and the Legacy We Leave

Sunday marked eight years since my dad passed away. Every year, this date rolls around, and no matter how much time has passed, it still brings with it emotions and a time to reflect. The memories of those last few weeks before he died have dulled a little, but it’s still a time of deep emotion for me.

The wave of reflection hit me on Saturday afternoon—in the swimming pool, of all places. Swimming has always been my happy place, my moving meditation. I can swim lap after lap, lost in thought or simply counting my strokes, a rhythm that soothes my mind. Dad taught me to swim. He set me on a pretty solid path—not to Olympic greatness or anything, but I did alright, and more importantly, I loved it. The water has always felt like home. It still does.

Now, I coach swimming. I taught my own three kids to swim, and I do it because it’s my way of giving back—just like Dad did for me.

Now, let’s be honest—Dad wasn’t perfect. He could be short-tempered, and he never sugarcoated his words. You always knew where you stood with him, and let’s just say that didn’t always sit well with everyone. But for me? That was perfect. I never doubted his love. There was nothing I could do that would make him stop loving me, and trust me, there were plenty of times I felt like I’d let him down. But that was me—he never treated me as anything less than someone he adored.

I know how lucky I am to have had that kind of love—not just from him but from Mum too.

Losing Dad when I was 38 felt unfair. Not super young, but young enough to feel cheated. There was still so much more I wanted him to be part of—so many moments with my kids that I wanted him to see. But we don’t get to make those calls. He died quickly—six weeks from diagnosis to death. Heartbreaking for those of us left behind, but in hindsight, a mercy for him. In true Dad fashion, he did nothing by halves—not even dying.

At the time, I didn’t cope well. I didn’t know how to cope, so I did what so many of us do—I buried it, ignored it, numbed it. And no, none of it was healthy. Then, just two years later, I lost Mum. Maybe it was expected, but it was still sudden, still shocking. The difference? By then, I had some tools. It was still unbelievably hard, but I knew I could get through it.

There’s this belief that humans actually thrive through adversity. It’s something I’ve come to understand more and more. We live in a world where we rarely have to be uncomfortable, yet discomfort is often where the growth happens. Things like cold plunges, fasting, or learning a new skill—they all force us into uncomfortable places, but that’s where resilience is built.

David Goggins talks about this all the time—how there’s no growth in comfort. It’s not enough to have the tools; you have to use them. Every single day.

I still wish my parents were here. I wish they could celebrate my kids’ birthdays, to celebrate mine. But the reality is, if I hadn’t gone through those hard years—I wouldn’t be who I am today. It’s a weird thing to say, isn’t it? That I’m the person I am because of their life and because of their death.

I had to learn how to cope. I had to gather every resource I could find, and that search led me to meditation, spirituality, and the work I do now.

If there’s one thing I’ve realised, it’s that no one gets through life without loss. Hard times come for all of us, and yet, we’re not really taught how to navigate them. I listen to a lot of podcasts (if you’ve read my blogs before, you already know this!), and I can’t tell you how often I hear people say, Why don’t we learn this stuff in school? And I agree.

The world has changed, and our education system needs to change with it. We’re not just here to be trained up for factory jobs—we are souls having a human experience. And it’s time we started honouring that in the way we educate our kids.

Last Friday night, my boys were staying with their dad. I love my quiet time, but I’ll admit, it feels weird not having my two little buddies around. I very rarely watch TV, but I found myself scrolling through Disney+ and came across Limitless with Chris Hemsworth.

What a treat! The first episode was all about stress—its long-term effects and ways we can train ourselves to handle it better. I won’t spoil it for you (because I highly recommend you watch it!), but some of the things Chris learned—and found really effective—were box breathing, mindfulness and positive self-talk. Funny enough, those are techniques I use myself and have built into The Classroom Connections Project.

It was exactly what I needed to hear. Lately, I’ve been feeling a little disillusioned with the world, and this was a great reminder that we do have power and these tools work. We can make a difference—not just for ourselves, but for others too.

At the end of the day, surely learning how to manage stress—something that literally determines the length and quality of our lives—is more important than memorising capital cities. Now, don’t get me wrong—I love geography (I even have a degree in it!). But in the age of Google, knowing the capital of Kazakhstan is a quick search away. What we really need are tools to help us thrive in the face of life’s challenges.

I don’t know what kind of legacy I’ll leave. But I do know that, in the words of Maya Angelou, people will always remember how you made them feel. When I think about my parents, I remember their love. And I hope I can pass even a fraction of that on—to my own kids and to the students I teach.

Maybe one day, my kids will even teach their kids to swim.

We never really know the impact we’ll have. But I hope, in some small way, I can be a light—a tiny beacon pointing toward a world that is more connected, more compassionate, and more filled with love.

Thanks for reading,

Natalie