Not Done Yet

I recently found out someone I knew passed away at 54 from a massive heart attack. Completely unexpected. We ride the current of life, assuming we've got another day. The truth is: none of us knows when our time will come. When today is the day.

As I tend to do, I went down a rabbit hole. What do you do when you know time is running out? You've got a year, six months, ninety days. Bucket list?

My cousin, Rachel, knew she didn't have much time. She knew she wouldn't see her children grow to adulthood, and that her youngest daughter would barely have time to know her. And still, she lived.

My last visit with her was beautiful. I loaded my four kids up and drove from California to Reno. During that time, we celebrated a birthday, an anniversary, a movie opening, and Rachel had one last date night with her husband. On my last day there, she and I were enjoying breakfast downstairs. Tea, smoked salmon, and crackers. It was silent. Unprompted, she looked at me, smiled, and said: "I'm not done yet." She went on to talk about the life she built and what she was leaving behind: love.

My cousin had answered the question. She didn't stop living until time finally said she had to.

I've been thinking about that a lot lately. Not because I'm facing what she faced, no, but because I've been treating parts of my life like they were already over. And unlike Rachel, I realized I wasn't choosing love. I was withdrawing. Bracing. Preparing for an end before it even arrived.

I thought about Wayne Dyer, who, during one of his final seminars, walked onto the stage and said: "I am Dr. Wayne Dyer, and I am well." He wasn't, physically. But he didn't stop teaching. He didn't stop showing up. He knew the end and chose to love fully.

So I started asking myself a different question. What if I approached life, this relationship, the same way? What if I stopped bracing and leaned into love? Fully. To be the best version of myself; not because it would save anything, but because that's how I want to face any ending.

Jim Rohn said it best: "I'll take care of me for you, if you take care of you for me."

That's what Rachel did. That's what Wayne Dyer practiced. That's what any ending requires.

It might save a relationship. A job. A friendship. It might not.

What I'm learning is this: you don't have to know how it ends. You just have to show up fully until it does. Bring love. Be grace. Bring forgiveness. Because what you leave matters, not what you get.

And, when you start showing up for yourself, what you thought was gone starts showing up too. Love.

You're not done yet.