Life is short.
That idea has been on my mind a lot lately. As I grow older, the truth of it settles in more deeply.
When I lost my dad years ago, one of my greatest regrets was that I never had another chance to tell him “I love you.”
All the replaying of his last hours and the countless “what ifs” didn’t change the fact that I missed my final goodbye. I’ve come to accept that some moments are beyond our control, and there are no perfect do-overs.
Still, I want to learn from that loss. I want to build a life full of farewells without regrets—moments where the people I love know how much they matter while there’s still time to say it.
None of us knows when our last goodbye will come. Daily life moves between routine and chaos, and if I’m not careful I can forget to pause and recognize the precious people God has placed in my life. I try to make an effort to tell them how special they are while I still can.
I don’t want to someday look back and say, “I wish I had said that.”
Which brings me to a few days ago.
As families grow, coordinating everyone for the same time and place becomes harder and harder. So when the stars align and it actually happens, it feels like a small miracle.
That’s exactly what we experienced. Work schedules shifted, grandchildren flew in, road trips were taken, and plans were finalized.
For a few treasured hours, every branch of my husband’s family was together in one place: laughing, talking, organizing meals, walking the paths, and enjoying moments of rest in beautiful Banff, Alberta.
There was a special reason for our gathering.
This woman.
My mother-in-law had wished for us all to be together, and we moved heaven and earth to make that wish come true.
We came for one reason: we love her.
On the drive home, I found myself thinking about her. She reads my blog when she can, though these days most of her time is consumed with researching treatments—because she’s facing cancer. She meets this challenge with the same determination and spirit she has shown throughout her life.
We don’t know what the future holds. Right now she walks with a spring in her step, living each day fully, and she is soon to take a dream trip with her husband and one of their sons. Those are the moments worth making space for—memories to hold on to, whatever comes next.
I first met these siblings back in college and never imagined I would one day become part of their family. Over the years we’ve built a shared history full of stories and laughter. I count myself blessed to be welcomed into that life.
We may still have many years together, but regardless of what the future brings, I decided there was no better time than the present to write my mother-in-law a letter. Here is what I wrote:
Dear Mom,
Thank you.
Thank you for passing around the salad until it was gone, and for mastering the art of quick jello. Thank you for lovingly preparing, more times than I can count, my boys’ favorite meal: Grandma’s perogies with farmer’s sausage, strawberry sauce, and cream gravy.
Thank you for teaching me how to make lasagna, waffle sauce, and buns, and for laughing with me when I once tried to bake a ham without realizing the plastic wrap was still on it. Thank you for showing me that teamwork can tackle any job—no matter how unpleasant—and that it’s best done together and done quickly.
But most of all, thank you for raising the man who became my husband. Thank you for caring for him, for teaching him, and for guiding him toward his faith. Thank you for teaching him that chores like doing dishes, preparing dinner, and taking out the trash are part of life for everyone—not just for women.
Thank you for demonstrating that even after many years of marriage, it’s important to steal a kiss in the kitchen. And thank you for loving your son so deeply that you welcomed me into the family and accepted me as your daughter-in-love.
My life is richer because you are in it. You live out what you’ve taught us: when life’s storms come, we hold on to Jesus and to one another.
Without a survey or a formal vote, I can say with certainty that you are deeply loved—by all of us.