Have you ever had that phone call?
The one that changes everything in an instant?
I got mine on a Tuesday afternoon.
My sister’s voice, shaky and strange, telling me Dad had collapsed at work.
Heart attack.
Gone before the ambulance arrived.
I was in my forties then, and somehow I’d convinced myself we had all the time in the world.
The days after losing him suddenly were a blur of arrangements and relatives.
But the nights? That’s when the regrets crept in.
All those conversations we never had.
The words left unsaid because there’d always be next Sunday dinner, next birthday, next holiday.
If you’ve lost someone suddenly, you know exactly what I mean.
And if you haven’t yet, please keep reading.
Because what I learned from talking to others who’ve walked this path might save you from carrying the same weight I do.
Over the years, especially after losing my closest friend to cancer three years ago, I’ve noticed a pattern.
Those of us who lost parents suddenly often circle back to the same wishes, the same unsaid words.
Today, I want to share the six things we all wish we’d said when there was still time.
1) “I forgive you for not being perfect”
Nobody talks about this one, but it’s huge.
My dad wasn’t perfect.
He worked too much, missed some school plays, and could be stubborn as a mule about admitting when he was wrong.
For years, I carried little resentments about these things, waiting for the “right moment” to have it out with him.
That moment never came.
What I’ve learned since is that holding onto those grievances only hurt me.
Our parents did the best they could with what they knew at the time.
They were human, making it up as they went along, just like we are now.
Forgiveness doesn’t mean everything was okay.
It means accepting that they were flawed humans doing their best, and loving them anyway.
Telling them this while they’re alive lifts a weight off both of you.
2) “Thank you for the small things”
We’re pretty good at thanking our parents for the big stuff: paying for college, helping with the house down payment, babysitting the grandkids.
But what about the thousands of small moments that shaped who we became?
My dad taught me to tie my shoes using the bunny ear method.
He’d make up silly songs on long car rides.
He always kept extra tissues in his pocket because I had allergies as a kid.
These tiny acts of love built the foundation of my childhood, yet I never thought to thank him for them.
As I mentioned in a previous post about gratitude, it’s often the smallest gestures that mean the most.
Your parents might not even remember these moments, but hearing you do will mean everything.
3) “I’m sorry for my part in our fights”
This is a tough one to swallow, but stay with me.
Remember those teenage years when you knew everything and your parents knew nothing?
Or those adult disagreements about life choices, parenting styles, or politics?
We all played a part in family tensions, but pride often keeps us from acknowledging it.
I learned this lesson the hard way after becoming a parent myself.
Apologizing to your adult children for specific things you got wrong opens doors that staying defensive keeps closed.
The same principle applies with our parents.
Taking responsibility for our part in past conflicts, even small ones, can heal relationships in profound ways.
You don’t have to take blame for everything.
Just acknowledge your contribution to the friction.
“I’m sorry I was so stubborn about that” or “I could have handled that better” goes a long way.
4) “Here’s what you taught me that really mattered”
Parents spend years wondering if anything they taught us actually stuck.
Did we learn the important lessons?
Did their values take root?
My dad never knew that his habit of helping strangers change flat tires shaped my entire philosophy about community service.
He never knew that watching him care for his own aging mother taught me about loyalty and family duty.
These observations shaped me more than any lecture ever could.
Now, watching my own mother age and need care, I see how much parents long to know they made a difference.
They want to know their life lessons landed somewhere, that their values will continue after they’re gone.
Tell them specifically what stuck.
“You taught me to always keep my word” or “Watching you handle that job loss with grace showed me how to face hardship.”
These specific acknowledgments are gifts that cost nothing but mean everything.
5) “I love you, and here’s why”
Sure, we say “I love you” at the end of phone calls or visits.
But when was the last time you told your parents WHY you love them?
There’s a difference between the automatic “love you too” and sitting down to say, “I love how you still get excited about baseball like you’re twelve years old” or “I love that you call me just to share a funny story you heard.”
After my friend died three years ago, his son told me he wished he’d been more specific about his love.
Not just the word, but the reasons.
The quirks, habits, and characteristics that made his dad uniquely lovable.
Our parents won’t always be the strong figures we remember from childhood.
Seeing my mother need increasing help has taught me that expressing specific, detailed love while someone can fully receive it is a gift to both of you.
6) “What do you want me to know about your life?”
This might be the most important one.
Our parents had entire lives before we existed, and parts of their story we’ve never thought to ask about.
What were their dreams before family responsibilities took over?
What’s their biggest regret?
Their proudest moment that had nothing to do with us kids?
I never asked my dad about his time in the military, assuming we’d get to it eventually.
I never asked about his childhood, his first job, or what he wanted to be before life led him elsewhere.
Those stories are gone now, and I can’t get them back.
Your parents are walking libraries of family history, life lessons, and experiences.
Ask them about their lives, their stories, their perspectives.
Record these conversations if they’ll let you.
These stories are your inheritance as much as any material possession.
Closing thoughts
Reading this might have stirred up some emotions, maybe even some anxiety about conversations you haven’t had yet.
That’s okay.
The point isn’t to create panic but to inspire action while action is still possible.
Pick just one of these six things.
Start there.
Make the phone call, plan the visit, write the letter.
Don’t wait for the perfect moment or the perfect words.
Imperfect words said with love beat perfect words never spoken.
The weight of words unsaid is heavy, friends.
I carry it every day.
But you don’t have to.
What will you say today while there’s still time?
