Guy - 44

Too Close to Home

I want to take you back to the early 1990s. Life was good. I was a kid living in South Africa’s interior with my mom, dad, and younger sister. We had a beautiful home, good schools, friends, sport — everything felt normal, safe, stable.

Then one day, the fights between my parents turned into a divorce. Our house was sold. My sister and I were split between two homes. My mom stepped up, launched a full-time career, and held the line. My dad, meanwhile, said he was finally chasing his dream. He left his job as managing director of a major transport company. Next thing I knew, he was dating his secretary. New cars, a new life, a web of secrets and half-truths. I was 12, maybe 13 — old enough to start connecting the dots, even when no one wanted me to.

He claimed to be broke, couldn’t pay school fees or child support. But somehow, there were still holidays and luxury cars, and eventually, a holiday home on the coast. It didn’t add up. One version from my dad. Another from my mom. And me, caught in the middle, learning that money — and the lies surrounding it — could fracture everything.

Over the next 18 years, I watched his company grow… and then fall. Always complaints about cash flow, always an excuse. Then one day, the company was sold for a single dollar. He walked away with nothing but debt. The cars were gone. The home was gone. And he was financially dependent on someone else’s family.

I promised myself one thing: I would never become that man.

Fast-forward. I’m married, with two kids of my own. Life looked good from the outside — and then, just like that, I lost my job. The good one. The one that paid the bills. I remember staring at my wife across the table thinking: Am I living my father’s life all over again?

My heart sank.

I scrambled. Took another job. Then another. Nothing fit. I was working for people I didn’t respect, in companies that didn’t value me. Then one morning, the Managing Director sat across from me and said, “We’ll pay you out.” And just like that — I was out again.

I was supposed to be the provider. I was supposed to have this under control. And I didn’t.

But I made a choice that day — not to spiral, not to make excuses, not to disappear behind false smiles and new cars. I was going to build something real. Something mine. For my family.

I started cooking lunch out of my home kitchen. Just office meals. One order at a time. That tiny idea became a food solutions business. Then multiple locations. Then a team of people. Dozens of jobs. Then hundreds. I was proud. My wife was proud. My kids were safe. We had made it.

But life doesn’t hand out victories without a fight.

Then came the pandemic. COVID hit — and suddenly, a business built around feeding office workers became a sinking ship. Clients gone. Orders vanished. A business with big bills… and no money coming in.

Every day I woke up with one thought: This cannot end like my father’s story.

So, I pivoted. Fast. I built a new business under the pressure of lockdown — an essential service delivering food to people’s homes. No playbook. No roadmap. Just grit, creativity, and the same refusal to fold.

And it worked.

My biggest fear has always been going broke and not being able to support my family. And I’ve come terrifyingly close.

But I’ve also learned that fear — when paired with clarity and heart — can be a powerful motivator.

This isn’t just a story about loss and redemption. It’s a reminder that your past doesn’t have to define you — but it can teach you how to rise.

Music - Guy’s music choices during our photo session included Paul Simon, Miriam Makeba, Hugh Masekela, Jungle, Brenda & The Big Dudes and Nightmares On Wax.