Everyone Gets One Glimpse of Their Final Day
At 18, I said yes.
I thought I was brave, curious maybe, but when the screen lit up, I wasn’t ready.
I saw my mother older, fragile, whispering my name with a trembling smile.
I saw my hands reaching for hers, weaker than I ever imagined they'd be.
There were flowers. Familiar ones. My little sister’s favorite. She wasn't there.
Then I heard my voice, barely a whisper: “Tell them I was grateful.”
Ten seconds.
Ten seconds that broke me and rebuilt me.
Since then, I hold people longer. I say “I love you” like it’s running out. I laugh more. I pray more.
Because I don’t know the day, but I know the feeling.
And I’m building a life that deserves a goodbye like that.