You never have as much time as you think you do. The dumbest thing I did in my 20s was staying quiet and not talking to my parents more.
We had a bit of a rocky relationship while I was in high school (which, I can imagine, isn't uncommon) but after I moved away from home for a few years I didn't do as much as I probably could to check in and really try to rebuild the bridges that had been singed while still living back home. But when I do I hear my mom and dad's laughs as we catch up, two of my favorite sounds for my entire life, and everything is fine.
Then while at work one morning my dad calls me, and tells me he has ALS. They caught it very early, he was always an active person and noticed little changes over time that tipped him to something funky going on.
Flash forward to two years later, and I'm moving back home to be closer to family. Even so, I'm so wrapped up in college and work that I tell myself that I don't have much time to visit home. My dad makes trips to see me more than I do the same in return.
A few years after that and my dad has beaten all of his doctor's expectations regarding how long he had after his diagnosis. But he's lost half his body weight, can't get anywhere without a powered wheelchair, and he can't talk.
I realize one day while I'm visiting that I'm never going to hear his laugh ever again, and I feel this weight on my shoulders that I can't explain. I wanted to tell him so many things, but knowing he couldn't say anything back tripped me up. So I kept quiet. A few months later, he was gone.
My mom was one of the strongest people I've ever known. She loved her kids unabashedly, and my dad just as fiercely. After he was gone, she was more quiet. Took to staying in more than she used to. I tried what I assumed was my best to visit, to call, but again I was working full time while finishing a degree and a teaching credential.
The visits were never as long as they could have been, and the calls were just the same. Inside I wanted to tell her how much I thought about her, my dad, my siblings, and our family, and how much it meant to me even if I didn't show it as much as I should have outright. But again, I kept quiet.
Barely a year after my dad passed, my mom went to the hospital with chest pain. She thought she had bruised or cracked a rib somehow. One x-ray was all it took to see the cancer. It had quietly metastasized its way from her lungs, to her lymph nodes, and her brain. Barely four weeks after her first hospital visit, she was gone. I was 27. Not even thirty years old, and I'd never hear my parent's voices ever again.
Not everyone has the same relationship with their loved ones. Sometimes, you can do what you can to be on good terms and it just doesn't work out the way you want it. But it took losing my parents to teach me how important it really is to keep those who love you close and to make sure they know just how much you love them by showing them AND telling them. Celebrate shared love. Nothing lasts forever. Don't keep quiet.
Username: SnaggyKrab