Welcome to Saying ‘Yes’ and Sometimes ‘No’ - episode 300
An episode that looks at the benefits of both.
Have you ever had a tough time making a decision?
Like when to say yes and when to say no, and when each of those is in your best interest?
When it will be for the greater good of those around you, and even farther out, depending on what it is that you do, and who you are, the kind of influence you have, the gifts you’ve been given, and how you use them?
We are looking at when to say yes, and when to say no today on Unabashed You.
We are very grateful that you’re here as we celebrate our 300th episode.
Saying yes to a conference I was afraid to attend. One of the best ‘yeses’ yet.
— We can do hard things
(Photo taken at conference)
C'est La Vie
Thoughts from Welcome to Saying ‘Yes’ and Sometimes ‘No’
Loss. It’s such an interesting thing. Sometimes you know it’s coming and yet when it becomes official, it can still hit you pretty hard. This was something I said yes to.
My father, Richard Conde, died on June 12, 2026. We knew he was declining as he had been diagnosed with bladder cancer among other health issues like advanced chronic kidney disease, diabetes, macro degeneration, and he’d recently had a pacemaker put in. How do you make it to 90 with all that stuff going on? It’s kind of amazing.
He did not take the greatest care of himself. If he wanted a piece of apple pie, a doughnut, or ice cream, he had it. Test blood sugar? No thank you. Change your diet? Not bloody likely as we like to say (or as Kramer and Jerry from Seinfeld, imitating a Cockney accent would say).
So where did my yes come in? It came from deciding to oversee his medical affairs after his bladder cancer surgery. My full brother and I divvied up responsibilities - he would take on the financial mess our father had created, get it organized and I would takeover his health. We felt it was equal and we both said yes.
Now a little backstory to help you see why this as not an automatic yes. Our father was not around for either one of us in our lives either as children or as adults. He wandered in and out and rarely remembered birthdays or Christmas. As an adult, I get it. He was not ready, he was not capable, he was not interested. We knew he loved us, he just didn’t know how to express it or make us a priority.
So our mother raised us and I have to say she did an excellent job. The three of us have discussed many times that we are grateful he was not hands-on because sometimes have no parent is better than having one who will likely muck it up. We decided early on to say no to bitterness, to say no to anger or resentment.
Turns out there were two additional children to complete this offspring picture. We found out about one (so a half-sister) when we were young adults. That was weird. But we welcomed her in. A couple of years before that he married a woman and they produced our final sibling (that we know of). He is younger than my son, so that is an interesting tidbit. (We also have a stepbrother that she brought to that union although he has chosen to be estranged from all family members. Choices, right?)
Now lest you think we had a strained relationship, we did not. He was pleasant, charming and generally a happy person. I think he simply lived for himself because he likely didn’t know any better. (And yes, he came to faith in his 50’s, in case you were wondering.) As adults we saw him more when he had a woman in his life, who it seems insisted that there be family get-togethers. His last wife died almost six years ago so he had been on his own.
I will tell you it has not been easy. Caring for somebody who did not care for me has been a tough assignment. And yet it definitely felt right. I felt that I was honoring this man by doing what I could, what I would for him. The healthy nos came when he wanted more from me than I could, or would, give. I did what I did in love, in a way I was able, and willing to do. Not keeping a record of wrongs, but being clear about my boundaries, and what was healthy for me.
And so ends a life. He goes on to his great reward as they say. The four children (two fulls, two halfs) are grieving for the finality of what is, and also for what we did not have. Such is life. And I am glad. We will talk about forgiveness another day.
Richard Conde
— December 7, 1935 - June 12, 2026
Godspeed
