On Thursday, Nov. 28, we held our annual BBJ Mikulás mixer (doubling on this occasion as a Thanksgiving party) in the wonderful setting of the Liz & Chain Rooftop bar, hosted by our good friends at the Budapest Marriott Hotel. It was all you could want from such an event: a great location (with a stunning view), interesting people, a good atmosphere and fantastic raffle prizes. I made a couple of speeches, and it was my usual schtick, happy to make something of a fool of myself to keep things light, enjoyable and moving.
Hopefully, the crowd gathered there won’t have realized that I had just gotten off a video call with my mother where my children, my wife and I said goodbye to her. It was the reason I was late to the event.
We had received word from my brother in the United Kingdom that Mum was probably at the end of life the day before, on Wednesday afternoon. My eldest daughter rearranged her schedule to travel down to West Sussex from London on Thursday, and we spoke with Mum one last time, telling her that she was loved and how grateful we were for everything she had done for us. It was heartbreaking not to be there in person, but I am thankful we had the opportunity to do at least that. She died in the early hours of Friday morning.
Why on earth did I go to that Mikulás party? Because I had already committed to doing so. And if I was going to be there, the crowd did not need to know the back story, although a handful of my colleagues did. That was a lesson learned from my parents: If you say you will do something, do it, and to the best of your ability.
It would be stretching things to say my mother featured regularly in this column, but she popped up from time to time. She had no pretense of being a high-flying business person (although, before getting married, she was a personal assistant in London, working for an executive at what was then ICI, and we all know the real power in an office lies with the PA!), but I found I have often been able to draw on her life experience.
She became adept at playing the cards she had been dealt because, she realized, no other path would take her forward. Complaining serves no purpose, achieves nothing. Fight for what you must; otherwise, roll up your sleeves and get on with it as best you can. At its core, it isn’t a complex philosophy. If I were to attempt to strip it back to its simplest form, her motto might best be summed up by Dori in “Finding Nemo,” the Pixar cartoon: “Keep on swimming.” Which is apt, because it was at a swimming pool where she first met my father.
Now, she has left the pool. I tell my children it is natural to be sad, but we should not be sorry. My kid brother died aged 22, my father was 75. Mum would have been 95 next February. It was a full and fulfilling life, but the last weeks were difficult; now she is at peace. So, here’s one last piece of advice for you from my mother: Wherever they are in the world, hold your family a little closer this Christmas and tell them they are loved. I know I will. Merry Christmas.
Robin Marshall
Editor-in-chief
This editorial was first published in the Budapest Business Journal print issue of December 13, 2024.
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