BEFORE THE LAST BREATH

 

If you get a chance, ask your mom how she is doing. Not just the polite “How are you?” that floats by unnoticed, but the kind of question that stops time. Sit with her. Watch her hands as she talks, the ones that have held you, cooked for you, wiped your tears, and carried burdens she would never tell anyone about. Ask her how she feels, not physically, but in her heart, ask her about the days she felt alone, the nights she stayed awake worrying, the dreams she set aside to make yours possible. One day, she may not be there, and you will ache for the simple chance to ask, to hug, to tell her you noticed, you appreciated her, you loved her.

If you get a chance, ask your dad how he is doing. Ask him about the quiet sacrifices no one applauds, the long hours, the missed celebrations, the dreams he tucked away so that you could have yours, ask him about the nights he felt fear and uncertainty but never showed it. Ask him about the regrets he may carry silently, and the moments of joy that he never thought to share. Fathers show love in strange, quiet ways, and often you only see it when it’s too late. One day, that presence may vanish, leaving you wishing you had asked more, listened more, held him closer.

If you get a chance, ask your siblings how they are doing. Ask them about the parts of life they never shared, the laughter they used to hide tears behind, the fears they carried alone. Ask them about their hopes, their heartbreaks, their regrets. Siblings are mirrors of your own soul, walking pieces of the same path, and sometimes the reflections you miss are the ones that matter most. One day, those mirrors can shatter, leaving pieces you cannot put back together, because life is fragile. People die every day, people leave without goodbyes, people vanish quietly, leaving only memories that sting.

I think of Eliza. She was like a mother to me. She called me “Daui.” We spent countless nights and early mornings talking, sharing laughter, sharing tears, sharing dreams too big to keep inside. When life was unbearable, she hugged me, held me, made me feel that no storm was too big if we faced it together. She mattered to me more than I can put into words. But almost two years ago, she took her last breath, I never had a chance to say goodbye, I still have her number saved as “Mama” on my phone. I still read our chats from six years ago, the jokes, the secrets, the encouragement, the love that kept me afloat when nothing else could, My life has never been the same since her passing, and I may never fully heal from this loss. The grief is a constant shadow, a silent weight pressing down every day, reminding me of the love I lost, of the presence that is irreplaceable, of the laughter I can no longer hear.

And then there was my Uncle Bernard. Silent, calm, steady, a presence that was always there but never loud. He carried his life quietly, without complaint, without fanfare, without asking for recognition. And one day, he was gone, no goodbyes, no signs. Just silence and in that silence, the hole he left echoes endlessly. I think of the moments I could have spent with him, the questions I never asked, the small gestures of love I never gave, and I realise that life often doesn’t give warnings, it doesn’t give chances, it doesn’t pause for us to be ready. People leave, and sometimes,,,, they leave without notice.

If you get a chance, don’t wait. Don’t wait for birthdays, holidays, family dinners. Don’t wait for the “right time” or the “perfect moment,” because life doesn’t care about perfect moments. Life doesn’t wait, every second that passes is gone forever, call, text, sit together, cry together, laugh together, listen, ask, be present because the people you love are treasures you may never see again, and the moments you ignore today become the memories you ache for tomorrow.

I remember waking up in the middle of the night, picking up my phone just to read Eliza’s messages, her words echoing warmth into my lonely hours. “Daui, you are stronger than you know,” she wrote once. And now, I read that same message six years later, and it brings tears I cannot hold back. The world feels colder without her, emptier. My heart still searches for her voice in the quiet, and sometimes I find myself speaking to the phone as if she might answer, but she won’t. And Uncle Bernard won’t, and those chances, small, ordinary, fleeting, are gone.

And yet, there is a lesson buried in grief. If you get a chance, ask, hug, hold, notice, and love. Notice the small things, how your mother’s hands shake when she sips her tea, how your father smiles quietly at a memory, how your sibling laughs at a joke you don’t understand, how your friends’ voices carry tremors of fear or hope. Every laugh, every tear, every heartbeat is precious. You cannot store love for later, because later may never come.

Think of the neighbour you wave to but never speak with, the cousin you lost touch with, the friend you stopped calling because life got too busy. Life does not guarantee second chances, one day, all you will have are memories, and the sharp, heavy ache of words unsaid, hugs unshared, love unnoticed.

If you get a chance, ask, ask your mom about her life before you existed, ask your dad about the fears he never shared, ask your siblings about their lonely nights, ask your friends about their struggles, ask your loved ones to tell their stories, listen, hold their hands, be present because the hands you don’t hold today may be gone tomorrow. The voices you don’t hear today may be silent forever and the smiles you ignore today may vanish before you notice.

One day, the silence will be all that’s left, the calls you didn’t make, the questions you didn’t ask, the love you didn’t give, all of it will become a weight you cannot undo. And in that silence, you will realise how fragile life is, how fleeting love is, and how desperately important it is to reach out now.

So if you get a chance, ask your mom how she is doing. Ask your dad, ask your siblings. Ask your friends. Ask anyone you love, ask, because tomorrow is never promised, ask, because love is measured in attention, presence, and courage, not time, ask, because there are too many goodbyes that came too soon, and too many words left unspoken, ask, because life is fleeting, hearts are fragile, and every moment matters.

Ask. Love. Treasure. Now.!!!!