I know death.
Not as a stranger…
But as someone I’ve met too many times along the road.
And perhaps you’ve met it too,
not in a dramatic way,
but in the quiet loss of familiar faces.
Maybe you’ve stood in class photos,
grinning wide,
not knowing that the person beside you
wouldn’t make it to the next one.
At that moment, everything felt normal.
However, life had other intentions.
From my primary school desk,
I remember faces.
Some have faded with time,
yet others remain sharp in my memory.
Two or three of them are gone now.
Back then, we ran barefoot together,
we shared pencils and snacks,
we even shared dreams.
But even though we had the same laughter,
the same hope,
some of them never made it beyond that chalk-dusted classroom.
As I moved into high school, things changed.
The number of losses increased.
In fact, it wasn’t just two or three anymore,
maybe seven, maybe more.
We signed farewell books,
and we promised each other we’d meet again.
Yet not all goodbyes come with future reunions.
Some are followed by silence.
Others by funerals.
And many by unanswered phone calls.
Therefore, what we once called “later”
turned into “never.”
Then came college.
And with it came even more clarity.
These were no longer just children growing up,
they were dreamers with plans.
Some wanted to start businesses,
others looked forward to marriage,
and many hoped to make their parents proud.
Meanwhile, slowly and silently,
names began disappearing from our WhatsApp groups.
At first, it seemed like nothing.
Maybe they left the group.
Maybe they changed numbers.
But eventually, someone would ask,
“Have you heard what happened to…?”
And suddenly, everything stopped.
Just like that, we were left with nothing but memories.
Although we still had screenshots and saved voice notes,
the person behind them was gone.
No more replies.
Just digital echoes.
Every day, death draws closer.
Not necessarily to frighten us,
but to remind us that time isn’t ours to keep.
Instead, we borrow it.
We rent it.
And inevitably, we return it.
That’s why we must live with intention.
If your parents are still alive,
then you still have a chance.
Tell them you love them.
Show them now.
Because, believe it or not,
there’s a real possibility they might outlive you.
And when that happens,
it cuts differently.
Especially if you waited too long to say the things that matter.
I know this may sound heavy.
And yes, it is.
Nonetheless, this isn’t meant to overwhelm you with sadness.
Rather, it’s here to wake you up to the beauty of now.
So often, we look to the future for joy,
but we forget that now is all we truly have.
Don’t postpone your peace.
Don’t delay your happiness.
Because tomorrow?
It’s a promise that doesn’t always come true.
That’s why you should laugh when you can.
Cry when you need to.
Dream boldly.
Apologize sincerely.
Love deeply.
Because waiting for the “right time”
often leads to no time at all.
On the other hand, if you start today,
if you live like this moment counts,
you give your life meaning beyond the minutes.
You see, we often imagine life as a long movie.
But in reality, some of us are already in the closing scenes.
Even so, we act like we’ve got all the time in the world.
So from now on, don’t wait.
Be present.
Be intentional.
Live like today is your final draft,
because, truthfully, it might be.
This moment is not a rehearsal.
It’s real.
And if no one has reminded you lately,
you deserve to enjoy it.
You don’t need permission to feel joy,
to chase peace,
to let go of what’s killing your soul.
So live now.
Love now.
Choose now.
Because this one breath,
this one day,
this one choice,
might be your only guarantee.
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