The Difference Between Inheritance and Belief

People often tell me they admire me for carrying on my father's legacy.

Every time they say it, I smile...

...and every time, a tiny part of me wants to gently correct them.

Not because I don't adore my father.

I do.

More than words can explain.

But because that's not actually what happened.

When I was in Grade 8, beside my graduation photo, we were asked to write down our dream career.

Mine said:

Interior Designer or Pediatrician.

I'm still not entirely sure how I thought I was going to become a doctor considering science wasn't exactly my strongest subject, but that's beside the point.

The point is...

The dream started early.

By high school, I had arranged my courses so I could graduate a year early and attend Ryerson's (now TMU's) School of Interior Design.

While I was there, I'd tell anyone who would listen that one day I wanted to build a design firm...

...and build houses with my dad.

At the time, my father wasn't running a construction company.

He worked for glazing manufacturers, electronics companies and other sales organizations, but construction had always been where his heart was. If you've read my earlier blog, Why Growing Up in a Never-Ending Renovation Was the Best Gift My Dad Ever Gave Me, you'll know exactly what I mean.

My dream wasn't simply to become an interior designer.

It was to see that spark come back into my dad's eyes so that when I'd ask him how work was, the answer would no longer be: "It was there."

Life unfolded the way life tends to.

I graduated.

Won a reality television competition that led to an internship (ok, this one is maybe a little out of the ordinary..).

Got married.

Started my big family (always wanted 4 kids and a dog!).

Worked for a company that believed in me and gave me room to grow.

Then, one Thanksgiving, I started doodling names and logo ideas at the kitchen table and Soda Pop Design was born.

Years later, after building a portfolio and earning the trust of clients, I was hired to design a heritage home renovation.

So, I did what I do best, I completed the entire design package.

Every drawing.

Every finish.

Every specification.

Every decision.

Then the clients called to tell me their contractor was no longer available.

Would I recommend someone else?

Without thinking too hard, I heard myself say, (as if prompted by all the clients who asked me for this for years before..)

"What if... we did it?"

I explained that my dad had years of construction experience.

We'd prepare a detailed budget.

Meet again.

If they felt confident, we'd move forward together.

I still remember that meeting.

My dad sat across from me while we presented everything.

Looking back, I can still picture his face. There was excitement, nervousness, disbelief.

And maybe... just maybe...

A quiet fear that the dream he'd quietly tucked away years earlier was about to become real.

The clients said yes.

And suddenly there was a different energy about him.

A little more confidence.

A little more laughter.

A little more purpose.

For a season, we had the privilege of building something together.

Here's the part people get wrong.

My dad didn't build my dream.

My dream gave him another one.

If he were sitting beside me today while someone thanked me for carrying on his legacy, I know exactly what would happen.

He'd interrupt before I even had the chance.

"No, no," he'd say.

"This is Cynthia's."

Because it was.

Soda Pop Design had already been established for years.

The clients had entrusted me with the design.

When the opportunity unexpectedly presented itself, my dad didn't step in front of the dream. He stepped beside me.

But here's what people don't see.

My father gave me something far more valuable than ownership.

He gave me belief.

He never once made me feel like I was "just" a designer.

He never questioned whether I knew enough.

He never needed to prove he was the smartest person in the room.

When I asked if he'd build alongside me, he didn't say,

"Here's how we're going to do this."

He simply smiled and said: "Let's do this."

Maybe that's why it stings a little when people rewrite the story.

Not because I need the credit.

But because they unknowingly erase one of the greatest gifts my father ever gave me.

He wasn't threatened by my ambition.

He celebrated it.

He didn't need to be the founder to be proud.

He was proud because I was.

Perhaps some of it is because construction has traditionally been seen as a man's world.

Perhaps it's simply because that's the story people expect.

Either way, it has never been the truth.

These days, my work looks a little different.

I have the privilege of collaborating with incredibly talented contractors, trades, engineers, architects, millworkers and craftspeople.

I've learned that the best projects are never created by one person. They're created by teams who trust one another's expertise and share a commitment to building something extraordinary.

Maybe that's another gift my dad gave me:

He showed me that leadership isn't about having all the answers.

It's about bringing the right people together, trusting what each of them brings to the table, and having the confidence to move a vision forward.

Creating a home is never just about finishes or floor plans. It's about helping someone step more fully into a life that reflects who they've become. Sometimes, it's about seeing the possibility before they can fully picture it themselves......and then guiding the right people to bring it to life.

The truth is, my father built many beautiful things.

Homes.

Businesses.

Relationships.

But the most important thing he ever built was the confidence in his daughter to believe her dream was worth following.

And perhaps my greatest privilege was that, for a little while, my dream helped bring one of his back to life.

So when people tell me how great it is that I'm carrying on my father's legacy…

That’s not quite right.

His legacy was never a construction company.

His legacy is what he quietly built inside the people he loved.

Belief.

Courage.

Confidence.

The willingness to take a leap before knowing exactly how you'll land.

And if I'm fortunate, I hope the homes I help create leave people with a little of that too: deeper sense of who they are, the courage to trust what they're ready for next, and the feeling of living in a space that reflects not just where they've been...but who they've become.

I think my dad would have liked that.

XO

Cynthia

P.S. Everyone deserves someone who believes in their vision before they can fully see it themselves.

My father was that person for me.

Today, I strive to be that person for every client who entrusts me with their home.

If you're ready to begin the next chapter of yours, I'd love to help you write it.