This morning, from her hospital bed, my mother told me that she loved me. It felt different. While she expresses her love in cards with “Love, Mom” and “We love you!” this morning, she spoke the words deliberately: “I love you.” They weren’t rushed, overly dramatic, or generalized. It was a clear statement—she wants me to know that she loves me. She also said, “Thank you.” A simple, matter-of-fact “Thank you.” She was thanking me for knowing that she needed to be there, for bringing her to the hospital ten days ago.
I know she wants to live. She mentioned that she might be dead without this medical attention. She is not wrong; she is a realist—factual, practical, and understanding, despite her morning confusion. She often asks me what started all this and how she got here. Today, she asked, “This is going to sound dumb, but are you my daughter or my sister?”
My mom keeps calling me Christine, her sister’s name. I don’t mind; we are all connected, and I just need her to feel the love surrounding her. I want her to feel safe. Whether some of this is temporary or not, her mind and body are betraying her. She needs a north star, someone she trusts to help her sort reality from fiction.
She is in a state of disbelief that this is her mind, her situation. Even in her late eighties, her ego is enduring indignities. She expresses slight embarrassment or perhaps even shame over her confusion and sudden physical limitations.
I feel blessed to help her and be a part of this chapter in her life. It’s one of the more difficult parts of life—trying and all-consuming, bittersweet, raw, and honest. It strips away the barriers we build between ourselves, leaving us vulnerable and human. Unless life ends suddenly or unexpectedly, most of us will experience the humbling and painful reality of mental and medical decline. None of us will get out of life alive; death is inevitable, but there is peace in that acceptance. I believe her story isn’t finished yet. Despite some scares, I am optimistic she has more chapters in her book. In her moments of clarity, she intends to live and experience more. I hope she does.
This past month has highlighted time and its limitations. Something I’ve said for a while is, “It’s later than you think.” This applies not only to mortality but also to our everyday lives—the small actions we need to take to systematically reach our goals, whether it’s building a business and positioning it for growth or letting the ones we care about know how much we love them.
Setting goals is only as good as the smallest pieces into which we break them down and execute those steps. It’s the timely and consistent actions that take place that drive success. I call this the “do it now” action. To propel toward what you want in life, you must seize the opportunities now to express and act on your intentions, whether for personal or group goals. We need to maintain our momentum and focus to achieve our objectives.
For my mom, amid her personal medical crisis, she wants me to know that she loves me. I already knew this through her actions over the years, but now I have this current and timely affirmation. She made it a priority to ensure that I know she loves me.
First, we must identify what we want. A serious illness or potential end-of-life crisis tends to bring instant clarity and sometimes even regret. So, how do we determine what we truly want and prioritize in our daily lives? Whether it pertains to business or personal matters, how do we spend our time on what is important to us?
It starts with knowing and defining our priorities. Begin by creating a list of what matters most. Once we identify these key elements, we break them down into actionable steps, some of which may have sub-steps. We need to retain that information and focus on those steps daily. Our actions drive us toward our goals. This applies not only to meeting project deadlines but also to our personal lives and the relationships that matter to us. Whether you need to reach a quarterly goal to propel your business forward or you seek to build meaningful connections with your loved ones, remember: “It’s later than you think.” In either case, do it now.
