My mother used to make me do chores I hated. If she asked me to wash the dishes right now, I’d probably still groan about it. But someday she won’t be able to ask anymore, and I have a feeling I’d trade almost anything to hear her ask again. This is the strange thing about mortality: it doesn’t change what happens day to day, only how we feel about it once it’s gone. Some of us despair at the thought of aging; others have come to terms with death. Despite the undeniable reality of this mortality, we all view it differently. Today, I want to talk about our relationship with mortality and how facing it can guide us toward a more deliberate life—a life with fewer regrets.
Let’s stay grounded for a moment and talk about how this relates to daily pettiness and our human relationships. Social interactions are not always easy. In fact, despite knowing your family for years—or perhaps precisely because you know them so well—it is entirely normal to find yourself in petty disagreements. As someone who used to struggle with anger, I was a magnet for these kinds of trouble. Whether triggered by a minor issue that could be easily fixed or simple overstimulation, I could always count on myself to take things personally. I admit, those reactions were much worse in the past than they are today.
So how did I cope? With time. As human beings, we are naturally present-oriented; we see things as they are right now, not how they will look decades from now. This is where living deliberately comes in. When a loved one passes away, regret is almost always present. I’ve said these words myself: “Why was I such a petty daughter?” “I shouldn’t have said that to my brother.” “I wish I had shown my love while they were still here.” It is never easy to admit, and it still haunts me. These regrets cut deeply because grief, unlike other forms of sadness, is final. Once someone leaves this world, there is no tangible way to make things right.
Life is remarkably short. The people around you are just as human as you are—they make mistakes, they hurt you, and like you, they will eventually die. Whether it is a parent, a sibling, or a friend; anyone who means the world to you. If not today, when will you appreciate the smallest things they’ve done for you? When will you notice the quiet burdens they protected you from?
When all is said and done, we try to convince ourselves to just move on. Now that you are aware of this truth, ask yourself: Is simply “moving on” when the time comes really enough?