I instinctively look to philosophers and other wise people for guidance on living well. But over time, I realized I was missing a rich source of wisdom right in front of me—my family.

The lessons were not always obvious. Of course, I gained basic values and practical living skills from my parents. I still make my bed every morning. But there are deeper lessons I learned from knowing and watching my parents live their lives. These lessons from my family are powerful for me because they are based on experience, not abstract theories, or a world we wish existed. I had a ringside seat to see the impact of choices, attitude, philosophy, and human nature on life and happiness.

The Difficulty in Learning from Parents

Families are a fertile learning environment because we spend so much time with them. We often have more contact with parents and siblings than everyone else. And our relationships are often lifelong.

However, being an essential part of a family complicated my learning experience. I was not an observer, but an active participant, expressing my will and personality. Powerful psychological dimensions had to be set aside for me to see important truths.

Seeing Parents as People

I was born into a stable, middle-class family. Both parents were college graduates. My father was a university professor, and my mother a schoolteacher. We lived in a beautiful house in a pleasant neighborhood. By all appearances, we were an ideal family of the 1950s.

When I was thirteen, my parents divorced. It was a shock. I had never seen an argument or heard raised voices. Our home life was stable, loving, and normal. It was my mother’s decision. My father moved out. My brother and I stayed with my mom and saw my father on Sundays.

Change filled the next five years. They were confusing, scary, interesting, and sometimes fun years. I experienced many of the changes and challenges common to growing up in a divorced family.

The divorce changed my perspective. I recognized that my mother and father were not just parents — all-knowing, powerful, and united in controlling my life. Instead, I saw complicated people with their own problems and struggles, trying to survive and find happiness as best they could.

I became more skeptical about parental direction since I saw they could make mistakes. And in the disruption of divorce, there was less parental direction. That freedom accelerated my independent thinking and decision-making. I gained a more objective, or at least independent, perspective, perhaps earlier than most. That made it easier to separate from my parents, see them realistically, and better recognize the lessons in front of me.

Upon Reflection—Insights on Living

I found several useful insights from thinking about my parents’ lives and my life with them. It took time and reflection to discover them.

Perspective, Understanding, and Empathy

My father visited me once at boarding school. When parting, he broke down in tears, something I had never seen before. I saw the pain the breakup of our family caused and his wish for a relationship with me that was more than Sunday visits. I thought, “How could I be angry with him when he clearly loved me and was hurting so badly? “

My wife often wondered why I was not angrier with my parents. It would have been easy to resent the chaotic and traumatic teenage years. The parental focus on my brother and his problems hurt. I certainly wish things could have been different. But I recall little anger and conflict. And later in life, I viewed my parents fondly.

So why was my reaction surprising to my wife? My best explanation is that my perspective changed and helped me to see them as people and parents. That made more room for empathy. I could see their struggles and understand the complexity of the situation. This was a big step forward in learning forgiveness. Life had much more to teach me about forgiveness, but this was a start.

Similarly, perspective helped me understand how they loved, influencing my learning to love.

Several times I saw my father sacrifice for the benefit of someone he loved. Sometimes, it was for someone who did not reciprocate that love. He did it consciously because it was the right thing to do. His example deepened my understanding of sacrifice in love. It showed love as a choice, not just a feeling. He showed how to love without conditions.

I held my mother as my brother bled to death in the hospital after a lifetime of alcoholism and drug addiction. In my mother’s constant attention to him during his last months, and in her grief at his death, I saw a mother’s deep, devoted love for a child. It was love not lessened by the suffering he caused. She would have given her life to save him. She begged the doctors to use her organs to replace his failing ones. Her love was primal and showed me a side of love that would take me time to understand.

There was a bigger lesson here. It was the relationship between gaining the perspective and emotional distance necessary to see people and events clearly, understanding people enough to empathize, and developing positive relationships. That helped me maintain strong relations with both parents throughout their lives. It was also a lesson I could apply to other relationships.

Choices and Consequences

A friend of my mother told me, “Your mother lived life on her own terms.” That captured her view of life and how she lived. That Ayn Rand image of the heroic individual following their reasoned vision without compromise appeals to me.

Living life on your own terms requires independence and freedom. One of my mother’s favorite songs was Cole Porter’s “Don’t Fence Me In,” which creates a vivid sense of freedom, free from expectations. She lived much of her life in Arizona, where she literally enjoyed the wide-open spaces.

She also strongly felt the need to care for herself without relying on others. Despite several marriages, she lived alone for the last half of her life. She was exceptionally competent at taking care of herself and her home and was proud of that competence.

Her choices were likely best for her. She never voiced regret about her approach to life. But I saw the downsides.

There are trade-offs between relationships, commitment, freedom, and independence. Focusing on what is important to you and being independent of others can detract from efforts to connect with and respond to the needs of others. The trade-off is that purpose and meaning are derived more internally than externally. It is the perennial tension between the primacy of the individual and society.

In her last decades my mother would wonder why she was here. She did not know what her purpose was other than not being a burden. During her last illness, with recovery possible but uncertain, she was clear she was ready for her life to end.

Like my mother, I have an independent tendency. But I have learned, partly from her example, to check that tendency and do more to build and maintain relationships with others and with my community. I know there is lasting meaning in supporting and helping others. This seems especially relevant later in life, when the purpose tied to building a career and raising a family has diminished.

Attitude, another important life choice, affected both parents.

Few get through life avoiding misfortune and tragedy. But can we develop the character to thrive despite the pain and suffering? My father was a good example of doing it right. He experienced much misfortune in life—a divorce he did not want, a second wife becoming mentally ill, and an alcoholic son who died in his 30s.

I saw him face these and other adversities that could have derailed his life and left him bitter and angry. Yet he built a meaningful and happy life. I know he suffered. There were times he said it was hard to keep going and be strong. But he did. He never got angry at those who caused him pain; had good friends, laughed, and enjoyed life. He understood that attitude was under his control. His positive outlook helped him live a good life.

Reinforcing the importance of attitude, he told the story of getting a construction job during the Depression. During the interview, they asked him whether he knew a certain building technique. My father said he didn’t, but said he would learn how. He got the job.

My mother related the experience of her first car accident as a teenager. She had crashed the car and was distraught and crying. Her father, instead of yelling at her, told her to get back into the car and drive. She did, and her “I can do anything I set my mind to” attitude carried over into many other aspects of her life.

These stories were more than a retelling of experiences. They showed the importance of attitude. Without a positive attitude, my father might not have gotten that job, and my mother might not have grown to love driving sports cars. While I have often fought personal doubts, I learned to adopt a positive attitude, take on challenging assignments, stifle my fears, and move forward.

Life of the Mind

Divorced and living 2,000 miles apart, both parents were founding members of university associated senior learning organizations. Learning, and an active intellectual life were fundamental to who they were.

My mother was an adventurous learner. She learned to fly and became instrument-rated in her fifties, when most people would shy away from such a challenge. And, with some complaints, kept up with computer technology into her nineties.

Books were essential to both. Each had a stack of books they were actively reading. I had conversations with my mother about her reading on quantum physics when she was in her eighties. My father and I discussed his study of Ayn Rand shortly before he died. Both were interesting people to talk with, never complained about being bored, and remained mentally sharp to the end.

Their intellectual lives showed me that learning is not just practical preparation for life, but a lifelong habit essential for thriving. Their example encouraged me to keep learning even when I feel lazy and only want to be entertained.

Making Amends

The last words my paternal grandfather said to me were: “Tell your mother that we always thought the best of her.” I was a senior in high school, visiting him in a nursing home. It was a brief visit and depressing as many nursing homes were then.

I thought he was just being polite and wanted me to pass on some kind words. But the words stayed with me. It took me years to understand what was going on with those few words, and the important lesson they taught.

My mother’s marriage to my dad was her second. Her divorce was a big problem for my father’s parents. My mother felt shamed, destroying all her first wedding pictures. She kept her prior marriage from my brother and me until we were nearly adults.

What I finally realized was that my grandfather understood their attitude toward her had been hurtful and caused problems. Now, months from death, he was attempting to correct the error. It was too late, of course. The damage was done, and the time for reconciliation had long passed.

While it took me years to grasp the lesson, it is such an important one. We will all make mistakes and cause harm to others. It is hard but possible to mitigate or at least lessen the impact of mistakes. One should do it quickly. On your deathbed is too late.

The Never Ending Relationship

I converse with the dead. But I don’t hear voices or attend seances.

I have a meaningful relationship with my parents years after they are gone. I think about them frequently and about how they lived their lives. Even in my seventies, I gain new insights.

Parents and family can be important sources of wisdom beyond their direct advice. We can glean wisdom from their example, from watching them grapple with life’s challenges. With this perspective, the learning never ends, as I have found talking with my father’s ghost.