top of page

I Am Still Me

Oct 9
1 min read

There is a moment in serious illness when the world begins to behave differently around you.


People lower their voices. Meetings happen without you because they do not want to disturb you. Someone offers to sign something on your behalf. Travel is reconsidered. Decisions are postponed. Everyone is trying to help.


And slowly, almost imperceptibly, illness can begin taking away more than health. It can take away agency.


This matters in a family office. A person may be undergoing treatment, living with a disability or adapting to a body that no longer behaves as it once did. But that person may still be a shareholder, beneficiary, parent, director, investor or simply someone accustomed to making their own choices.


The challenge is not merely providing the best medical care money can buy. It is preserving the largest possible territory in which that person continues to decide.


Perhaps meetings need to become shorter. Documents presented differently. Travel adapted. Assistance provided discreetly. Responsibilities temporarily reduced.


These are accommodations, not exclusions.


There is an important difference between helping someone do something differently and deciding that they should no longer do it.


A sophisticated family office should understand that difference.


Because when illness enters a family, preserving capital remains important. Preserving dignity becomes equally so.


And dignity often begins with four words: Ask me, not them.


W.

 
 
 

Recent Posts

See All
When Agreement Becomes a Habit

One of the most curious developments within successful business families is how intelligent, experienced and independent people can gradually arrive at the same conclusions, often without anyone askin

 
 
 
The Question We No Longer Ask

A family office can become extraordinarily efficient at answering questions it should no longer be asking. Consider a family that has avoided investing in a particular industry for decades. Its invest

 
 
 
If Only the Walls Could Speak

If only the walls of a family home could speak. They would tell extraordinary stories. Of ambitions born around a dinner table, sacrifices made without recognition, disagreements quietly buried and pr

 
 
 

Comments


bottom of page