Do we ever truly know the answer when someone asks, “What would your last wish be?” It’s a question that often lingers in our minds during moments of uncertainty or when we lose someone we love. We think about these things when life feels fragile, and circumstances become unclear.
It’s strange how, during the season of Thanksgiving and Christmas, many people are excited, yet others feel a deep sadness or horrible stress. Some reflect as they remember and miss the ones who made these holidays feel different—more meaningful—than they have become. In a recent writer’s prompt, we were given the words “one last wish.” I wasn’t sure where to go with it, because I could think of so many things. As we approach Thanksgiving, I began thinking about my mom and asking myself a question I had never really considered before her loss 8 years ago.
I remember that Wednesday night when my mom came over to our house, sitting at the dining room table with my children and me. They showed her their unique school projects while I helped her import photos from her old phone onto her new one. It didn’t seem to work, so I tried doing the import onto my laptop with little success. Afterward, I walked her to the car and made sure she was safely on her way. I waved as she drove off, unaware that it would be our last exchange.
It feels like it was just yesterday when I received that call—Mom is on her way to the hospital in an ambulance after a massive stroke. I don’t even remember the drive or entering the hospital, just that I suddenly found myself sitting in the waiting room, waiting… and waiting. When the doctor came in, all he could say was that we needed a miracle, as the procedure hadn’t gone as it should have.
I tried to hold onto hope, telling myself, She’ll wake up, and everything will be normal again. The next day, I showed up to sit with her. When my dad and brother walked in, the doctor was waiting near the door and asked us to come out to the computer to show us images from her CT scan. I quickly dialed my sister so she could hear, as it seemed important. The prognosis was worse than I could have imagined.
Decisions had to be made, and there was no miracle in sight. Before the night ended, I had to decide if my kids were going to see Grandma and say their goodbye. How do you make that decision when they’re so young? Without hesitation, I drove home and brought them to say their last goodbye to Grandma, even though I didn’t feel they could fully grasp what was happening. Everything happened so suddenly that I couldn’t even grasp it. But if I didn’t give them the opportunity, they might have felt slighted. It was most important to me to give them that chance.
The final night of my mom’s life, the five of us—my dad, brother, sister, myself, and Mom—sat together one last time. It would be the last time we’d all be in the same room, experiencing life together. So many thoughts ran through my mind as I reflected on a lifetime of experiences: life changes—marriages, children, careers, and more—but the core of our family remained the same, even though our roles shifted over time.
I kept looking out the window, trying to make sense of it all, and then back at my mom, who we could hear breathing. I couldn’t fathom what my life would be without the woman who had given me life. I could hear my father and brother talking on the other side of her bed. My sister was resting her head on and off, in her own state of numbness, and I would catch her staring in my mom’s direction. She might catch my eye, and we’d shake our heads, not knowing what to say—in our disbelief. The morning came, and that was when her life support was turned off, and we watched her take her last breath.
Mom had no idea when she left the house that Wednesday morning that it would be her last day at work. Thinking of the last conversation we’d had or the last text we exchanged, I never could have imagined it would be the last. It’s like something you see in a movie—a moment when the heart monitor flatlines, and you never think it will happen to you or someone you love. But when it does, it’s nothing like you expect. As my heart sank beneath my knees, I remember tears pouring out, and I felt an unbearable loss in those moments.
Afterward, my life began a new chapter—one without my mom. The day before her funeral, as I fidgeted with my laptop, I was surprised to find that all the photos we thought we’d lost had downloaded onto my computer. As I went through them, I realized they were filled with the things that mattered most to her—her church, her family, her life with my dad, us kids, the grandkids, and, of course, her two cats. There were even videos of her talking to them, making them laugh in the ways she always did.
Now, as I reflect on that simple question, my thoughts go to her: If my mom had a last wish, what would it have been? If she had the chance to ask for just one thing, what would she have wanted?
Knowing my mother, if she could have spoken in her last moments, her final desire would have been to have a few minutes to tell us a few things. She would have told us to keep loving one another—through the ups and downs, the joys and the struggles. She would have told us to live fully because we never know what a day will bring. She would have said to keep making memories and supporting each other, just like she did when she was with us. Mom was always real and never had to be perfect; she was always focused on what truly mattered to her: God, family, love, and living with the purpose of making everything better for anyone she could. She would have wanted us to carry on with the same warmth, kindness, and resilience that she always showed, and to remember her not in sorrow, but in the way she always loved and lived.
So, I ask you to think about and consider: If you were in a position where you only had one last wish, what would it be? More time? An opportunity to right some wrongs? Telling someone you haven’t yet how much you love them? Or perhaps saying yes to an opportunity that you let pass by? As much as we know life is precious, we lose sight of that in our thinking because life throws so much unpredictability at us each day. We lose our way in the messes. We’ve come to times in our world when there is so much animosity and division because of our differences. I see it more in families than ever before in my life.
The good Lord created us to live in love, to care for one another, and to share in the beauty of human connection. Yet, so many are in the pursuit of success, money, and collecting things that bring no fulfillment beyond a temporary happiness that fades. Meanwhile, we leave a void from a lack of connection, understanding, forgiveness, and love. Our world is increasingly divided by politics, ideologies, and “us versus them” thinking, and we often fall into those traps. If we can find a way to look beyond labels, disagreements, and one-sidedness, we realize that the things that truly matter—love, kindness, and understanding—could override any divisions. When we choose love over judgment and connection over conflict, we can see that no belief, no opinion, and no possession can ever replace the deep fulfillment we find in one another. In the end, it’s love, not things, that binds us and makes life truly worth living.
I encourage you today to find someone you’re thankful for, and to act beyond intention—to let them know on purpose how much they mean to you.
In a time when it seems love is missing, maybe you and I can turn the tide and be the ones to bring it back.