Am I Too Old for This Sh%t? Starting The MentorWell at 60

Am I too old for this sh%t? Hell no, I’m just getting warmed up!

Being a startup founder at sixty was never part of any plan.
I have friends who are retired or retiring.
Others are slowing down.
Some are travelling the world and enjoying every minute.

Me?
Retirement is not even on my radar.
Because it is not an option.
And because I do not want to. At least not for the foreseeable future.

I feel more passion for my work now than at any other time in my life.
That still surprises me.
It feels like I am finally building what I was meant to build.

I am also happily single.
No need to date.
No need to search for someone.
I like being me.
And because of that, I like being on my own.
One day that may shift.
But for now, I am good.

People look at my life and think, what the hell is this guy doing?
No partner.
No plan to retire.
A startup at sixty.
Carrying more emotional weight than most people see in a lifetime.

Yet here is the truth that catches people off guard.
I am happy.
Genuinely, happy.
For the first time in many years.

Even with the collateral damage I carry.
Even with the scars.
Even with the grief that never really leaves.

Life has hit me hard more than once.
Losing a business.
A painful divorce.
Both difficult, but nothing compared to the loss that changed the entire shape of my life.

On April 11, 2015, my fourteen year old daughter Maddie, died by suicide.
The ten years that followed almost killed me. Literally.
I held more pity parties for myself than I care to admit.
I thought about ending my life more than once.
Only my two boys kept me here.
They had already lived through enough pain.
I could not leave them with another loss.

What people do not talk about is what trauma does to your brain.
It is not only emotional.
It is neurological.
Your wiring changes. Your decision making. Your memory.
Your patience shifts.
Your reactions become unpredictable.
Your sense of safety disappears.
You do not feel like yourself.

You try to get back to the person you were before your child died.
You reach for him every day.
But he is gone.
He lived in a different world.
A world that does not exist anymore.

Work becomes impossible.
Focus disappears.
Relationships feel fragile.
Your confidence drops.
Your mind protects itself in ways that make no sense to anyone else.

Grief hits in waves.
Some days it floods you.
Other days you feel nothing at all.
Silence becomes a coping strategy.
Numbness becomes survival.

Then one day, you finally see the truth.
You are not supposed to go back.
You are supposed to become someone new.

You accept the person you have become.
A little sadder.
A little softer.
A lot kinder.
A lot more compassionate.
And somehow, more grateful than ever.

Grateful?
Yes.
Grateful.

Because loss stripped away everything that did not matter.
It forced me to see people more clearly.
It shifted my politics.
I went from a hard right supporter to someone slightly left of centre because I cannot ignore suffering anymore.
I cannot rationalize greed. I have no need in my life for materialistic people.
I cannot look away when families are drowning.

Maddie’s kindness stayed with me.
It guides me.
It grounds me.
It keeps me focused on the work that matters.
It is the reason The MentorWell exists.

The MentorWell was born from the part of me that broke.
From the part that rebuilt itself with compassion.
From the part that refuses to let another family walk the same path in the dark.

The MentorWell gives teens support.
It gives parents clarity.
It gives families direction when everything feels directionless.
It gives kids the stable adult presence I wish Maddie had in her hardest moments.

If there is a moral to all of this, it is simple.
Trauma will change you.
You do not get to choose that.
But you do get to choose what you do with who you become.

I chose to build something that helps.
I chose to honour my daughter through purpose.
I chose to let her kindness live on in the work.

And every time a teen feels understood, or a parent finds clarity, or a family gets support early, I feel her close.
I feel her shaping something better for someone else.

And that is enough to keep going.