Why I Continued Helping Others
People sometimes ask me why I devoted so much time to others. Why I continued listening. Why I continued answering questions. Why, even in the midst of my own sorrow and difficulties, I continued searching for ways to restore someone else's courage. My answer is simple. Because I myself experienced how much one person can mean in the life of another. There were moments in my life when everything threatened to stop.
After a professional setback. When a dream collapsed. When someone betrayed my trust. And of course, after Marco's death. In such moments, it was not always grand solutions that kept me on my feet. Sometimes it was a single conversation. A helping hand. An unexpected telephone call. A word of encouragement. Or someone who simply said:
"I still believe in you."
Words like those may seem small. But when a person can no longer see a way out, a few sincere words can turn everything in another direction. They do not always solve the problem. But they can give us the strength to take one more step. And then perhaps one more. Those are moments we never forget. I have always remained grateful to the people who stood beside me at decisive moments. Some helped me in practical ways.
Others gave me confidence. Still others simply listened. Perhaps they did not even understand what their gesture meant to me. But I never forgot it. That is why I always felt a need to give back in turn some of what I had received in my life. Not because I owed someone a debt. Not out of duty. Nor to be admired. I did it out of gratitude.
Over the years, a conviction grew within me that became one of my most important rules for life:
"Everything you do for someone else, in the end you also do for yourself."
That does not mean we should do good because we expect a reward. Genuine help is not a business transaction. We do not give attention in the hope of receiving the same attention later. We do not help because the other person will then owe us something. The meaning lies in the act itself.
When we treat someone with respect, respect also grows within us. When we give another person hope, part of that hope remains in our own heart as well. And when, for a moment, we make someone's burden a little lighter, the world in which we ourselves live also becomes a little more humane. I believe every person carries something within them that can help another. Some do it with their hands.
They build. Repair. Care for others. Or literally roll up their sleeves when someone needs them. Others help through their knowledge. Their patience. Their sense of humor. With a warm meal. A visit. Or simply by being present at the right moment. No one needs to be rich, learned, or important in order to mean something to another person.
Perhaps my gift was simply knowing how to listen. Being able to share my experiences. Not immediately condemning people. And sometimes being able to make them feel they were not entirely alone. I did not have all the answers. I still do not today.
But I knew setbacks. I knew what it meant to have to rebuild everything. I knew disappointment. And I knew how it feels when sorrow becomes so heavy that words are barely enough. Perhaps that was why people recognized something in me. Not someone who stood above them.
But someone who had fallen himself. Someone who carried wounds. And who had nevertheless continued trying to rise. In the beginning, I sometimes thought helping meant I had to find a solution. That was my nature as an entrepreneur. When a problem arose, I wanted to solve it.
But my conversations with so many people taught me that human pain cannot be solved like a technical or business problem. Not every wound heals. Not every question has an answer. And no life can be saved or directed along a particular path by another person. Truly helping does not mean taking charge of someone's life. It means respecting that person in their own choices. Offering a hand.
Opening a door. Or walking a short part of the road beside them. The rest of the road belongs to that person. That realization made me humbler. I could not help everyone. Some people found my words valuable. Others probably did not. Some resumed their journey after a single conversation. Others remained in contact for years.
But I always tried to conduct every conversation with the same sincerity. Behind every question stood a human being. And every human being deserved to be treated with dignity. Looking back today, I am not proudest of the companies I founded. Nor the projects I completed. Of course, they formed part of my life. I worked on them for years.
I fought for them. And they taught me a great deal. But my deepest satisfaction comes from entirely different moments. From the words of someone who told me after a conversation:
"Now I see things a little differently."
Or:
"I don't feel quite so alone anymore."
And sometimes, simply:
"I'm going home with renewed courage." To me, those were the finest rewards. No money. No applause. No recognition. Only the certainty that, perhaps for a single moment, I had been able to mean something in another person's life. Perhaps an important part of the meaning of my existence lies there. Not only in what I built. Not in what I possessed.
But in the good I tried to do along the way. I do not know how many people I truly helped. Each one is the only judge of that. But if, through a few words, sincere listening, or simply being there for someone, I was able to make the weight in one person's heart a little lighter, then my time was not in vain. In the end, it is not success that remains.
Nor money. Nor fame. What truly remains is the love we gave. The hope we kept alive within someone. And the goodness we left, often without realizing it, in another person's heart.