My business is on the back burner.

In October 2024, my dad was diagnosed with terminal cancer. Since then, I’ve been living with a constant fear of losing him. Running my business felt impossible, yet at the same time, I was getting featured in newspapers, speaking on stage, and being invited onto podcasts across Canada. The contrast was brutal. I was celebrating professional wins while dreading the inevitable.

Then, on March 15th, the inevitable happened. He was gone. And I am still here, still in shock.

All the hustle, the accolades, the "success"—it suddenly felt meaningless. I had been caught up in the grind, always chasing the next milestone. Somewhere along the way, I forgot what real life is about. It’s not about how much you make or how many followers you have. It’s about how you make people feel.

My dad understood that. He was an entrepreneur and an inventor [he even tried out for Dragon’s Den] but more than anything, he was a giver. He treated everyone like family, always putting others before himself. He would give away the shirt off his back, even if it meant struggling to pay his own rent. He wasn’t a big deal because he was famous. He was a big deal because he made people feel seen, valued, and loved. That’s the legacy I want to carry forward.

Stone Heaters - KEN TOCHENIUK

Losing him has been a wake-up call. I had been running on autopilot, burying grief from past losses in the chaos of building a business. It was an escape—a way to avoid the pain. But the pain doesn’t disappear; it just waits.

I had some incredible moments this year—recognition in The Globe and Mail, speaking at a conference, being on the UDR podcast. And then, in an instant, everything shifted. I went from celebrating milestones to saying goodbye. The contrast was jarring.

I see now that I had been chasing a version of success that wasn’t even mine. I fell into the trap of comparison, wondering why everyone else seemed to have it all together. But nobody has it all together. Life is messy, unpredictable, and full of both grief and joy.

My dad’s passing has forced me to re-evaluate everything. My family is my priority, my number one ministry, where my higher power works in my life. It’s where I find my purpose and my strength. My business will still be here, but it can wait.

I’m learning to embrace the grief, to let myself feel the pain, and to honour my dad’s memory by living a life of love and service. He taught me that true wealth isn’t measured in dollars but in the connections we make and the love we share.

I’m not burning anything down, but I am hitting pause. I’m giving myself permission to grieve, to heal, and to realign with what truly matters. I’m reminding myself that it’s okay to slow down, to step back, and to prioritize my well-being.

My dad showed me that you don’t need fame or fortune to make a difference. You just need to love people. And that’s what I intend to do.