What happens when life changes overnight?

My dad retired in August after 42 years with the same company. 

Larry Rosen ran a close-knit, highly efficient team in the California branch of the firm, and enjoyed the respect, autonomy, and authority that comes from being the most veteran presence in the business.

I could use one hand to count the number of sick days dad took in his career. At the same time, it would take far too long to add up the unspent vacation days he accrued.

In the weeks leading up to his last day, he told me he had no idea what that first Monday of retirement would look like. Being part of something for that long brings a special scope of responsibility and depth of relationships that are not easily replicated. 

What happens when everything changes overnight? Thirty Mondays later and I think dad’s still trying to answer that question. He now carries institutional knowledge and encyclopedic know-how about a place he’s no longer tied to. 

If you do anything for that long, I imagine it’s hard to conceive of what life looks like without it. 

There is no meaningful comparison to make, but today is indeed my first Monday since 2021 that I’m not employed by Business Insider. Three years is nowhere close to four decades, though I do believe I have a slightly better grasp of what my dad was talking about in August. 

While I’m not retiring, I do feel a vague, unsettling feeling that my life is indeed radically different today than it was one Monday ago. Tuesday will be different, but here’s what I know for sure about today:

I won’t see my (former) colleagues.

I won’t sip the newsroom coffee.

I won’t join the team meeting I’ve participated in for three years.

I won’t introduce myself to anyone new using the name of a company I love. 

And yet — I’m excited I won’t be operating on someone else’s calendar. I don’t have deadlines other than the ones I invented. I did not sleep in today, but it was nice to know I had the option.

Just as my last day at Business Insider was bittersweet, my first Monday after is one of mixed feelings. I’m in the uncommon moment between chapters when I can reflect on where I’ve been and position myself for where I’m going.

There is no easy way to move on from what is familiar, and doing so means staring down the uncertainty of untrodden ground. Perhaps in this small way my dad and I are enjoying the same season of life.

Whether he intended to or not, my dad taught me how important and rare it is to be reliable, and what it means to show up everyday without complaining.

Those lessons have served me well in my brief career. I hope I can be as good an example to my future kids as my dad is for me.

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