I’ve always been really close to my parents, so I assumed my dad would use some of the money he got from selling his motorbike repair shop—after running it for 50 years—to help me financially. Now that my mom has passed and he’s retired, I thought he’d settle down quietly. Instead, he’s doing the exact opposite.
He’s using the proceeds from the shop to buy a brand-new $35,000 Harley, planning a cross-country trip he calls his “last great adventure.” Meanwhile, I’m buried in debt, paying bills, and trying to afford a small condo.
Seeing him chase this so-called midlife adventure instead of helping me or investing sensibly is hard to accept. When I bring it up, he just laughs and says, “At my age, every crisis is an end-of-life crisis.” I can’t fathom how he can blow that much money on himself while I’m struggling to get on my feet.
Because of this, I had to cancel a Bahamas trip I was planning—money I considered part of my rightful inheritance. My friends think I’m right: parents should do everything they can to support their children financially.
What my dad doesn’t seem to understand is that I still have a future to build, while he has limited time. If he won’t do the responsible thing, I feel ready to claim what should already be mine.
He insists the trip is a tribute to my mom, honoring her wish for him to live fully after she passed. But I know she would have wanted me to have that money to start my life.
At this point, part of me thinks maybe I should stop expecting anything from him—stop calling, stop caring. But another part still hopes he’ll realize what’s right. I don’t know which voice to follow anymore.
