The Lesson I Learned From My Dad’s Blank Pages

I don’t live with regrets.

One of the most important lessons my dad ever taught me came after he passed away.

Seven months before he died, he had surgery, touch and go. I sat next to him in the hospital, watching his vitals drop, unsure if he’d make it.

I asked him if there was anything he had always wanted to do but hadn’t.

He said, “I always wanted to paint.”

So I bought him a watercolor book, one of those simple sets with paint and paper in one. I left it for him when he got home.

After he passed, I found the book and flipped through it, hoping to find just one painting.

It was blank.

Page after page, no color, no brush stroke. That moment has stayed with me.

In 2016, I went to UX Camp in DC. I wasn’t sure I had anything important to say. I was nervous. But I remembered the blank pages and I threw my name in to speak.

My one cheerleader that day was Dan Brown thank you for that nudge and your support ever since.

Since then, I’ve spoken on four continents. Not because I’ve always been fearless. But because I never want to live with the kind of regret you can feel in your hands.

If you want to do something, do it.

Start messy. Say the thing. Write the post. Paint the page.

You don’t have to be ready. You just have to be real.