After my mom passed when I was five, my Dad fell into a financial well. He could barely afford weekly groceries; my grandparents came over with family-style Costco meals, and other friends from my mom's care circle left a casserole at our front door in place for his cooking. His responsibility to work and provide for my siblings and I limited the time he had to spend with my brothers and I, so we became hyper-independent. My middle brother, David, drove me to school every day or called on a family friend for a ride. And my eldest brother, Jeffrey, cooked me dinner. While they took care of me, my dad drove himself crazy in an office cubicle, staring at a family photo of us and reminiscing about a time when our family was whole. That period of my life, being raised morally by my dad and physically by my siblings and friends, showed me financial boundaries to existing in a one-income household that I didn't know existed. Friends asked me regularly to hang out and go shopping with their moms, but I didn't have enough money to keep up with their social outings. They chirped about allowances and weekly chores to achieve them, and I wondered what age I'd have to get a job to provide for myself. They bragged about plentiful gifts their parents bought them, and I bragged about the shirt my dad bought me after completing our summer reading deal. He may have been struggling, but my dad always found a way to educate me in self-sufficiency. There was no grey area in our financial situation, even as a child; my dad made sure to tell me exactly where we were financially. I was in middle school when I learned what his salary was. I felt a pressure to keep it from crushing us, but it also provided me a guideline for personal spending. It showed me what I could and couldn't afford, and when I could afford it. Though my dad tried to give me everything I needed to fulfill my dreams and future endeavors, with each financial sacrifice, he informed me of its cost. He ensured I felt the weight of it on my chest, and that warning provided me a roadmap for financing my future. Financial literacy, while its existence in my life was unfortunately prompted, prepared me to function as a broke college student. There is no avoiding it: all college students have little money. But my dad's financial transparency showed me what a financial plan looks like; it showed me what cutting back looks like; it showed me what necessary means; it showed me what earning a future feels like. I learned these because of his dark place, and I developed my financial learning because he was brave enough to let his kids know he was struggling. His courage prepared me to function on weekly meal plans like I did when I was little. And when I need to pay for a textbook, the savings account he taught me to care for--that survivor's benefits kept afloat--will be a ready resource. Also, if I want to save up for a gift, I'll refer to the job my dad insisted I keep in high school; then, when I can save myself from drowning in the financial well our family started in, I'll be thankful for economic honesty.