Courtesy Erin Heger
Erin Heger and her father.
- After my dad was diagnosed with cancer, he began spending more money on experiences than ever before.
- I started spending more time with friends and going on trips, too, as a way to cope with my dad's illness.
- After dipping into my family's savings to pay for my increased social spending, I realized I needed to find a balance between living in the moment and planning for the future.
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Laughter erupts from everyone at the table as my dad chuckles to himself, pleased his joke has played well with the crowd. "If I keep living like this," he says, "my money will run out before I die!" I laugh, almost spitting out my drink. "That's so true, Dad," I say, gasping for air. "You better be careful."
Beneath the laughter and light banter of the evening is the unbearable truth none of us dare mention. It's too painful to say out loud - that my dad's stage 4 prostate cancer will take his life before any of us is ready. But he is here now. We are having dinner together now, and so we laugh instead.
When he was diagnosed three years ago, I braced myself for the worst. I knew the road would be long and heavy. I knew the treatments would make him ill. I expected my mental health to suffer, and that I would need my support network more than ever before.
What I didn't anticipate is how spending money would be part of how I coped, and that my dad's illness would have such a profound impact on my bank account.
Living more intentionally
The side effects from my dad's radiation, hormone treatments, and surgeries diminished his quality of life, turning him into a shell of his former self. When we learned his cancer was too advanced for any hope of remission, it felt like a punch in the gut. Our family was reeling and each of us dealt with the news in our own way.
Yet, as my dad emerged from the dark cloud of treatments, he embraced life with a new enthusiasm I hadn't seen from him before.
He started diligently checking items off his bucket list, which of course required spending money. He took up piano and tap dance lessons, bought a sports car, and started reconnecting with old friends, traveling all over the country to spend time with people he had lost touch with over the years.
He and my mom planned trips together and traveled to Hawaii, then Alaska. Whenever I called to say hi, one of my parents would shout over music and chatter on the other end of the phone, explaining that they were trying out a new restaurant and would call me back when they got home.
All of this was in stark contrast to the way I had grown up, which was solidly middle class. My family didn't take lavish vacations and we only dined out for special occasions. I always had everything I needed, but knew there were financial limits to fulfilling my wants.
Money wasn't something we lacked, but it also wasn't something we had in abundance, so seeing my parents seek out new and expensive experiences was a definite shift in the more practical ways I had always known them to handle money.
In many ways this was inspiring. My parents were spending much more money than they had before my dad's cancer, but for the most part they were doing so in pursuit of experiences, not things.
My dad made a choice - he could wallow in despair, waiting for the worst, or he could embrace the moment and live in the now.
His intentional shift toward reconnecting with old friends and seeking out new adventures inspired me to do the same.
Balancing wants and needs
I have always loved to travel, but after my dad got sick, it was all I could think about. I craved a change in scenery, a new place to distract me as I wandered for miles in the mountains or woods, hours away from my home in Kansas.
I knew that I also had a choice in how I would cope with my dad's diagnosis. As I saw my dad living more exuberantly, I decided to embrace "living in the now" in a big way.
I, too, started planning more trips and spending more time with friends, which resulted in a noticeable spike in my social spending.
For a while, this was okay; we had some wiggle room in our budget and my husband understood why weekend getaways or grabbing drinks with friends were suddenly so important to me. But after a few months, it became clear that my insatiable thirst for adventure was chipping away at our savings.
A good deal of self-reflection and therapy helped me understand my travels weren't just about living my life to the fullest, but also an attempt to run away instead of dealing with my reality at home.
Once I acknowledged that, I could look at my spending more objectively, with the understanding that if I continued this way, I would be jeopardizing my family's financial future.
The ability to spend more frivolously under the guise of embracing the moment is also a reflection of my financial privilege, shielding me from the harsh reality experienced by those with lower incomes who don't have the luxury of traveling as a way to cope with a sick loved one.
Today I try to balance my social spending with a little more planning and foresight, honoring my dad's example of living out your dreams, but doing so within my budget.
No one knows what the future holds. If I'm lucky, my life includes several more decades and a retirement I need to be saving for now. Balancing my immediate financial wants with my future financial needs takes discipline, but my dad has also shown me that while money can be a tool for embracing life more fully, it's the people in life that matter most.