Hold On to the Dream. Let Go of the Plan.

What losing my dad taught me about responding to life's unexpected changes.

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It was 2012, and I had just graduated from college. Ten days later, I moved from Massachusetts to New Hampshire and started my first "big girl" job. It was daunting.

Growing up, I always worked hard in school and set goals for myself. The formula seemed simple: do well in school, get a good job, build a career, get married, have a family, and live a happy life.

I had planned for all of the big milestones, but I hadn't planned for everything in between.

Overnight, I went from classes, field hockey, homework, roommates, and school breaks to creating my own routine and building a life that was entirely my responsibility. For the first time, success wasn't measured by grades or championships. It was measured by showing up to work every day, earning a living, and navigating the day-to-day choices to build the happy life I imagined for the next forty-plus years of my life.

I also didn't realize that I was grieving.

For twenty-two years, my parents had been my home base. I had gone to college close enough that I still saw them all the time. They came to my field hockey games and I’d stop home for dinner or to do laundry. We genuinely enjoyed spending time together.

Now I was almost an hour away, trying to build a new life without having that same support nearby. 

My parents were always there if I needed them, but I wanted to prove I could do it on my own. I wanted to make them and myself proud.

Then life had other plans.

Life Throws You for a Loop

One afternoon in September of 2012, I drove home to visit my parents. They sat me down, and I immediately knew something was wrong.

I was looking at my mom and then my dad started to speak. I whipped my head around to look at my dad as he calmly said, 

“I went to the doctors and I was diagnosed with an aggressive form of Stage IV small cell lung cancer.”

It felt like a terrible joke. There was no way this could be happening, my dad was this bigger than life personality, he couldn’t be sick.

I asked the only question I could think of.

"What's the prognosis?"

He looked at me and said,

"The doctors say... probably a year."

To this day, those words still catch in my throat.

That was the day I realized something that has stayed with me ever since. My life, as I had imagined it, was never going to unfold the way I thought it would.

My dreams hadn’t changed, but life did. Every version of my future included my dad. I envisioned: 

• Buying my first house, my mom giving decorating advice and dad obsessing over the lawn.

• My dad meeting the man I would someday marry, putting his arm around him, and instantly treating him like family.

• Dancing with him at my wedding.

• Becoming the most excited grandfather imaginable.

In a single conversation, every picture I had painted of my future suddenly looked different. 

For a while, I thought everything I had planned for my future had changed. Looking back now, I realize my goals hadn't changed, it was how I reached them that did. 

Some of the most meaningful moments in my life still happened, they just looked different than the version I imagined at twenty-two. 

Plans Matter, But They Need Room to Adapt

I'm not saying you shouldn't make plans.

I absolutely believe in setting goals. Whether it's a one-year plan, a five-year plan, or simply having a vision for where you want your life to go, direction matters.

However, plans can't be so rigid that they come crashing down the moment life throws something unexpected your way, because inevitably it will. Life doesn’t allow us to control everything. 

Trying to plan every future milestone all at once is overwhelming, so instead, focus on the next most important step.

Keep the long-term vision but put today's energy into what's directly in front of you.

By focusing on the next most important step, you're much better equipped to adapt when life changes; whether those changes are by choice or by chance.

Learning to Pivot

Circling back to my dad, he passed away months later in early December of 2012.

As painful as that was, it was also a blessing in disguise because he was in far more pain than we realized and that wasn't the quality of life he deserved.

My mom and I were heartbroken, and healing took a very long time.

There were parts of that season that I didn't handle well, including eating my feelings, gaining weight, and struggling with depression that I was in denial about. Those are stories for another day. 

There were also things I did right.

The day I found out about his diagnosis, I couldn’t figure out how every future milestone would be impacted. That wasn’t the most important thing in front of me. Those questions didn't need answers yet.

When each milestone eventually arrived, I found a new way forward.

• My dad never got to meet my husband, but through countless stories, my husband feels like he knows him.

• My dad wasn't there when we bought our first home, so my father-in-law and my mom's boyfriend became part of that chapter. They helped us with projects around the house and the yard.

• I never got to dance with my dad at my wedding, so I danced with my mom instead. We played a video during our dance honoring the people who could only be with us in spirit. It allowed him to still be part of one of the most important days of my life. 

• We haven't reached the chapter of having children yet, but when we do, I'll find meaningful ways for them to know their grandfather, even though it won't look the way I imagined all those years ago.

  
  

None of those moments happened according to my original plan, but that doesn't make them any less meaningful.

Final Thoughts

If there's one thing I hope you take away from my story, it's this:

Make plans, dream big, and set goals; but don't become so attached to one version of your future that you miss the beauty in the one that's unfolding.

Whether we make a choice or life makes one for us, we still get to decide what comes next and how we respond.

That's why I created the Pivot Compass — to help people navigate life's changes with intention instead of feeling overwhelmed by them. 

Life isn't lived in five-year plans. It’s lived one intentional step at a time.

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Clarity doesn't come from doing more.

It comes from understanding what actually needs to change.

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A note on visuals

Some visuals are thoughtfully created using AI to reflect the ideas and experiences shared, rather than a specific moment.

Disclaimer

This content is based on personal experience and is intended for reflection and informational purposes only. It is not a substitute for professional advice.