“The biggest adventure you can take is living the life of your dreams.” ~ Oprah Winfrey
My father died at the age of forty-nine.
I was young when it happened, the way grief softens you when you’re not yet equipped to handle it. I myself was so consumed by the loss that I never stopped to calculate it. Forty-nine years. He got it all. Forty-nine years to do what he wanted to do, to become what he wanted to do, and to say every word he still had inside him.
I did not give that land. not then I was not prepared for its meaning. But life has a way of preparing you, whether you choose it or not.
A few years later, someone I love is diagnosed with cancer. At the end The type of diagnosis that doesn’t just change the person receiving it. It turns everyone sitting in the waiting room, everyone driving in silence afterward, and everyone waking up at 2 a.m. doing the same terrible arithmetic.
Suddenly the pettiness of ordinary life becomes unbearable. Suddenly, you see with horrifying clarity how much time you’re spending on things that don’t matter.
Then last year, my grandmother passed. He was older. he lived And yet, in a moment, she was no longer here. There are no warnings. No gradual fading could I prepare for. Just the sudden, permanent phenomenon of his absence.
Three losses. Three reminders. And yet, the loudest wake-up call came quietly from within.
I am forty.
There are things approaching forty that no one quite prepares you for. It does not come with fanfare or crisis. It comes as a question, low and steady, that you can’t hear once it starts: What am I waiting for?
Because forty is not an age. But it is no longer young as it would have you believe that time is endless.
I look around at people I’ve loved and lost, and I realize that many of them didn’t make it close to sixty. It was forty-nine for my father. And here I sit, healthy, capable, full of ideas and dreams that I keep filing away, thinking about later. As if it was a place where I had a guaranteed ticket.
It is not.
We learned to live, but no one taught us to live
We are taught to wait. to achieve pleasure. Be responsible first and second to the living. And so we do. We procrastinate, we plan, we procrastinate, and we tell ourselves that once things fall into place, once we feel ready and once the time is right, we will do the work.
But life is not slow for your preparation. And death doesn’t check your calendar.
I know this because I waited almost too long to start sharing my writing publicly. I had an idea. I had a message. I had years of lived experience that I knew, somewhere deep down, might matter to someone else. But I was scared. Afraid of what people will say. Criticism, judgment and the vulnerability of putting my personal stories out into the world and fear of not knowing how they will land.
Then I thought about my father. Forty-nine years. And I asked myself, if not now, when? If not this, what?
So I started. Scared, incomplete, and unsure, but I started. And that leap, that one decision to stop waiting for the fear to pass, changed everything. Fear does not stop. You just decide a life governed by fear is not a life lived.
List of life and how it actually works
It’s not about grand gestures or dramatic revisions. It’s about something much quieter and much more powerful: intentional living practiced consistently. Here’s how I do it:
1. Reflective Audit
Every month I sit down and ask myself honestly: What was this month of my life really like? Did I read the book I meant to read? Did I walk on my promise? Did I rest without guilt? Am I spending real, uninterrupted time with the people I love? It is not to judge myself but to see clearly where I am showing up for my own life and where I have silently abandoned it.
2. Who checked in
I ask myself who I haven’t talked to in a while. Who will I miss? Who deserves more likes than posts? Who deserves a real phone call, a real conversation, and a moment of real connection? Relationships are also part of the list of life. Those who matter are never on the list. They are now on the list.
3. Small Brave Things
This one changed everything. I pick at least one thing every season that scares me enough to justify it. Not a dramatic leap. Sometimes it’s signing up for a class, sometimes it’s reaching out to someone after years of silence, and sometimes it’s just saying yes when every cautious part of me still wants to say no. The size of things is not the point. The act of choosing it over fear is important.
4. Test loving accountability
I’ll be honest: it’s not always easy. Some seasons you fall into the trap of next week or next month when things calm down. When this happens, I bring myself back with a simple question asked with compassion, not criticism:
If this is my last chance to do this, should I still wait? This gentle urgency cuts through almost everything. It’s not about scaring yourself into action. It’s about loving yourself enough to stop putting your own life on hold.
When your time comes, will you look back?
I often think of my father. Forty-nine years, a life half-finished. And I ask myself the question I should have asked sooner: when my time comes, what will I look back on?
Can I say that I lived fully, loved without holding back, and took the risks that called me? Or will I sit with a list of places I’ve never been, words I’ve never said, and dreams I’ve kept small and safe because I’ve been waiting for the perfect moment?
The perfect moment never comes. But this moment is here.
you are not eternal Not in this world, not in this body, and not in this particular window of life that is open right now. And neither am I. This is not a sick thought. This is the best explanation I know.
So I ask you, truly, as someone who has sat with considerable loss to mean: What is on your life list? Not when things settle down. Not when you’re less afraid. Nothing is owed against you in the future.
now this breath This heartbeat. stop waiting start living Do it with fear, do it imperfectly, and do it if you have it today. Because this moment is the only one you are sure of. And the people you lost, who left before you were ready and before you were ready, won’t tell you to wait.
not so
Because after every loss I know is true, after every birthday that reminds me that time doesn’t stand still, after every moment I choose to show up for my life without postponing it: the regret of inaction is heavier than the discomfort of trying.
Things you didn’t do will sit with you for a long time that didn’t go to plan. And the life you chose to live fully, imperfectly, boldly and on your own terms – is worth looking back on.
You don’t need a dramatic turn to start. You don’t need to have it all figured out. You just need to calmly and firmly decide that your life is worth living now. Not in theory. not a day now
What is one thing on your life list that you can do this week?
about Tamara
Tamara is a Marketing Manager and Founder inspire your soul, An honest story about intentional living, a space for personal growth and the belief that healing happens all at once. Based in Johannesburg, South Africa, she writes about the things we rarely say out loud—how we grow, how we heal, and how we find our way back to ourselves.
