She Never Gave Up

Do I resemble my mum or my dad?

Growing up, people used to tell me two things repeatedly.

The first was that I was cute. Honest to God, it used to embarrass me, it didn’t feel macho or cool. I never knew what to do with a compliment like that, I’d shrink into the corner rather than receive it gracefully.

The second was that I was the spitting image of my dad. The face structure, the walk, the way I carried myself in a room. He’s no longer here now, but when I look at old photographs I see it too. In many ways I’ve spoken about my dad often, the social capital he extended to me, the trust he placed in me early, the relentless work ethic he modelled. He shaped me enormously. But people would comment on our similarity on the surface, on the outside.

My mum heavily shaped the inside.

Mummy

She told my brothers and I we don’t give up.

Not as a suggestion. As a statement of family identity. “Us as a family, we don’t give up.” I believed her then, and I believe her now. That conviction is woven into my DNA.

I watched her prove it firsthand. She worked as a nursery nurse for years, month to month, never quite comfortable, always pushing forward, overcoming one adversity over another. And quietly, steadily, she purchased our family home, the house where my brothers and I grew up, the house each of us lived in for a year as young adults with our children, as she helped launch us into the world. She didn’t announce it. She just did it.

My mum went through the transition of being a caterer to attending college then transitioning to supporting children with special educational needs and disabilities. I remember reviewing her annual assessment of children as she prepared to present to their parents. Even though I was a teenager, often feeling frustrated that my mum wants me to proof read another report. I respected her humility to ask me for help, she always maintained a no ego mindset. I would always read it for her too as I recognised that English wasn’t her first language and she wanted to ensure she was expressing herself well with the right grammar and punctuation.

It was in her nature to nurture us but what inspired me was her consistency. She also told us she loved us. Regularly. Openly. Even as adults now.

I’ve thought about that a lot. It isn’t guaranteed. Not every parent carries that warmth into the adult years of their children’s lives. But she did, and I think it planted something in me. It’s why I sign every letter with Love & Light. It’s where that comes from. She modelled that love as a practice, a daily habit, a way of being in the world.

And then there’s faith. My mum gave me that too. I’m a deep believer in Jesus. I follow the Lord. And so much of how I try to show up in the world, with forgiveness, with care for my neighbour, with the belief that every person carries a light worth protecting, traces back to lessons she taught me. Not just in words. In how she lived.

She started a business at sixty

She moved back to Ghana where she grew up before moving to the UK for 40 years. Not put off by stage or age in life, she started a successful nursery there where she provided employment to women and nurtured parents as well as their children. A tireless worker.

She ran it for nearly a decade, then pivoted, converting it into serviced accommodation and relaunching it entirely. She’s in her 70’s now. I tell her to slow down. She can’t help it, she loves to live and execute on her ideas. She is the tortoise not the hare and she is proud of it. Whether it takes her 3 months or 3 years, she never gives up and always see’s things through once she puts her mind on an idea. Just last week she was on the WhatsApp group posting photos of freshly made-up bedrooms, ready to welcome guests. Rest now*? No, she’s still going.*

When I look at myself as an entrepreneur, the resilience to keep building, the belief that tomorrow holds something better than today, the willingness to reinvent rather than retire, I know exactly where that came from.

My mum.

It is Never Too Late

Sometimes there is a stigma that it is too late in life to make a change for the better. I can’t fully accept that, it has been engrained in me by my mum. Small acts, done repeatedly add up and compound to something bigger. And it is bidirectional, new relationships, new knowledge and new lessons.

If you’re reading this and you’re 50+, still carrying dreams, wondering whether it’s too late to begin, I you to look at my mum and answer that question for yourself.

That’s part of why I’m so energised about a new programme I am shaping alongside The London School of Economics and GuessWorks called The Next Act. Over the course of several sessions, we’ll explore what it actually looks like to step into entrepreneurship, angel investing, or a non-executive director (NED) role in the next chapter of your life. No theory. Practical, grounded, real.

If that sounds like you, or someone you know, join us for the webinar on Tuesday 17th March: https://luma.com/lb6krf4x

As ever, thank you for reading. I hope something in this letter landed.

Love & Light, Andy Ayim MBE