Buffett opens his letter not with Wall Street but with Omaha, the place he still calls home. He recalls his near-fatal appendicitis as a child in 1938, the Catholic nuns who cared for him, and the fingerprinting kit his aunt gave him to pass the time. Even then, curiosity was his driving force. Surprisingly enough, the first part of his letter talks more about others than himself. He remembers neighbours who later became icons, including Charlie Munger, his lifelong partner, Walter Scott, who brought MidAmerican Energy into Berkshire before becoming a “valued Berkshire director”, and Don Keough, the future president of Coca-Cola. All of them grew up within a few blocks of one another. Omaha, he writes, was a small world that produced outsized friendships and values.

To Buffett, geography mattered. Staying in Omaha kept him grounded and insulated from the noise of New York. It was a place where business remained personal, and trust was built face to face. He bought his first and only home there in 1958, two miles from where he grew up. Looking back, he insists that both Berkshire and his own life turned out better because they were rooted in Omaha. “Through dumb luck,” he writes, “I drew a ridiculously long straw at birth.” Few billionaires would phrase their life story that way, which is precisely why Buffett still feels relatable even at ninety-five.

In the final pages, Buffett turns inward. He writes that he owes his life to luck: to being born in the right place, at the right time, with health and opportunity. He calls “Lady Luck” wildly unfair, noting that many talented people never receive the same breaks. Acknowledging this imbalance, he says, should make us more compassionate, not complacent.

He also writes candidly about ageing. His body slows, his eyesight fades, but he still goes to the office five days a week. “Father Time is undefeated” he says. Yet he feels content. What matters now is not the next deal but the legacy of behaviour. His advice is simple: learn from mistakes, choose your heroes carefully, and live the kind of life you would want written in your obituary. Greatness, he insists, is not measured in money, fame, or power. “Kindness is costless but also priceless.”

He criticises how corporate pay transparency, introduced to shame excess, instead fuelled envy among executives. When salaries became public, competition replaced moderation. “Envy and greed walk hand in hand,” he writes. When reading Buffett’s critique towards the large salaries now paid to CEOs, one cannot help but think about Elon Musk’s recently announced pay package potentially worth $1 trillion if all performance goals are achieved. The observation sums up his career-long resistance to excess.

The world’s most successful investor ends by telling readers to thank America for their opportunities, to recognise the role of chance, and to practise gratitude. He admits he has made many mistakes but says learning from friends and mentors has made him better. For Buffett, decency compounds just like capital. His letter closes not as a farewell to shareholders but as a guide to living well.

Source: Berkshire Hathaway

Warren Buffett’s farewell marks the close of one of capitalism’s most extraordinary chapters. This letter was a final demonstration of humility, gratefulness, and wisdom. The numbers will move, the market will do what it does, and Berkshire will have its volatile stretches. But Warren Buffett’s lessons and legacy are here to stay.

His parting message is both simple and enduring: “Choose your heroes carefully and emulate them.” It sounds like advice to investors, but it is really advice to everyone. His true wealth is not what he accumulated, but what he taught the world about how to use it well.