We Think We Have Time

We Think We Have Time

There are moments in life that divide everything into before and after. My friend is going to pass. These are one of those moments for me.

Their impending passing didn’t arrive with a warning sign or a neatly wrapped explanation. It came the way so many life-altering moments do—quietly, suddenly, and without asking permission. One day theyre living their life, taking up space in the world. The next, will be gone, leaving behind an ache that words can’t quite reach.

What strikes me most isn’t the impending loss itself—it is the realization of how often we assume later is guaranteed.

Later to call.

Later to apologize.

Later to say “I love you.”

Later to sit together and laugh about nothing.

We walk through our days believing time is generous. That relationships will wait. That people will still be there when we’re ready, when life slows down, when things feel easier. But loss teaches us a truth we don’t like to face: nothing is promised—not tomorrow, not closure, not one more conversation.

My friend’s path to passing, their own—complex, deeply human, and shaped by experiences none of us fully saw from the outside. Like so many people, they carried things quietly. Strength and struggle often lived side by side. And now, looking back, I realize how easy it is to miss the weight someone else is holding when we’re busy carrying our own.

That’s the part that stays with me.

We don’t know what someone is battling behind closed doors. We don’t know which conversation might be the one that matters most. We don’t know how powerful kindness can be on an ordinary day—until it’s too late to offer it again.

This loss will change how I move through the world. It already has. I’ll visit with him, spend some memorable moments so I can save them for when he’s gone to always remember.

You’d think because of my mediumship gift, I’d be different. Losing those I care for and those I love hurts deeply. I know where we go after this life. I’ve seen it clearly many a time.

What I’ve learned through loss-

I pause more.

I reach out sooner.

I say the thing, even when it feels awkward or vulnerable.

I remind the people I love that they matter—out loud, not just in my heart.

Because love left unspoken becomes regret far too easily.

If there is anything my friend’s impending passing has taught me, it’s this: take nothing and no one for granted. Not the people who frustrate you. Not the ones you assume will always be there. Not the relationships that feel “unfinished” or complicated. Life is fragile, and so are we.

Grief is the price we pay for love—but love is still worth it.

So call the friend.

Forgive if you can.

Be gentle, even when you’re tired.

Hold space for others, because you never know when it might be the last time you get the chance.

And most of all—live in a way that honors those who no longer can.

Not by being perfect.

But by being present.

Michelle