"Tomorrow Isn't Promised"
Lessons from Losing My Mum
It's been a week since I received a phone call—a week since my mum left us. I haven’t stopped thinking about that day, so I felt the need to write something. I pray that we all learn from this and never take life, time, or the people we love for granted. We truly never know what the future holds.
Last Sunday was hair day for me. If you know anything about 4C afro hair, you’ll understand this is a full-day affair—from washing to conditioning, deep conditioning, steaming, blow-drying, and finally, twisting. I started in the afternoon, and by the time I was done, it was 1 a.m. Of course, there were interruptions with the kids. They still had to eat, and there was bedtime and preparation for a new school week.
But throughout the day, my mum was on my mind. I’d think about her randomly, replaying conversations in my head. Her presence felt especially heavy after I put the kids to bed and began twisting my hair. I remember thinking, “My mum never calls me. If I don’t call her, she won’t call me.” So, I decided to call her the next day. We had so much to catch up on. I imagined a long conversation filled with plenty of gist and gossip about her latest activities. I mentally set aside at least an hour for us to chat once the kids were in school, so I wouldn’t be interrupted.
At 1 a.m., I finally finished with my hair. I wasn’t thrilled with the results, but I was exhausted, so I went to bed. I was deep in sleep when I felt my husband gently tapping me awake. I was confused. He said he wanted us to pray, which wasn’t unusual, but his tone was different. Then he explained—my brother had called. My mum was in critical condition at the hospital. He mentioned blood, vomiting, and other details I can hardly remember now. So, we prayed. At no point did I think my mum wasn’t going to pull through.
I was drifting back to sleep when we got another call. The message was clear: she didn’t make it. My mum was gone.
I was in shock. My mum hadn’t been sick. I’d seen her just a few days before, looking healthy and having fun at a party. I couldn’t understand what was happening. It was even more surreal because it was a three-way call with my siblings—my sister by her bedside in Lagos, and my brother and I in the UK. I couldn’t connect the words they were saying. I heard my sister sobbing, but it still didn’t make sense. My mum couldn’t just die like that. She had only turned 71 in April, and just last year, she had a big party for her 70th birthday—a party I didn’t attend.
I asked my sister to show me her body. And there she was, looking like she was peacefully asleep. My mum looked at rest. In that moment, I felt a strange sense of relief for her. She looked free, like my kids when they fall asleep after a long, exhausting day. I felt happy for her because she needed rest. Of course, I asked her to wake up, but she didn’t. My mum was gone.
I wish I had called her when she was on my mind. I carelessly assumed I had control over time. I postponed a call that I should have made right then and there. I ignored the nudges. Time isn’t guaranteed. Do today what you can, because tomorrow isn’t always promised. Make that call. Send that message. If you can do it today, don’t wait for tomorrow.
I’ll never have that conversation I planned. There won’t be a proper goodbye. No exchange of “I love you’s.” That’s it. I missed my chance, and the guilt is hard to shake. It’s hard not to feel stuck. But if you’re reading this, take it as an alarm. Don’t wait until tomorrow. Do it today. Forgive, reconnect, rebuild. Don’t take anything for granted because you might have to live with the regret for the rest of your life.
It’s been a week, and we’re still processing the loss. My mum was vibrant and larger-than-life. She filled any room she entered. Her presence was always felt and never forgotten. She was the backbone of her family—not just her children but her siblings and her church community. My mum loved fiercely and fought just as fiercely. She didn’t do things halfway; she was always all in.
A few thoughts have been on my mind since last week, and I want to share them:
Don’t wait. I wish I had called my mum when she was on my mind. I assumed I had time. I thought I could do it tomorrow. But time isn’t guaranteed. Make that call. Send that message. Do it today—because tomorrow is never promised.
Celebrate now. I missed my mum’s 70th birthday. At the time, I thought it was just a party, not a priority. I weighed the costs and decided it wasn’t important. Now, I find it ironic that the last time we could have celebrated her life together is gone. When we talk about a “celebration of life” now, she won’t even be there. Don’t assume you have time. Celebrate today.
Reflect on legacy. Looking back on her life, I’m in awe of what she achieved. I was tasked with writing her biography for her 70th birthday, and it gave me insights I hadn’t had before. Life dealt her a difficult hand, but she made lemonade out of lemons. She was a fighter. No matter what life threw at her, she showed up swinging.
Make memories. Record videos, take pictures. Those are the things you’ll have left when your loved ones are gone, or what they’ll have of you. I’ve replayed my mum’s voice notes and watched the videos I have. I read our chats and remember our times together. I’m so grateful for these memories, but I wish I had more. Be deliberate about making memories.
Live with purpose. Times like these force us to reflect. Am I living the life I was created to live, or do some things need to change? My mum’s house has been flooded with visitors, and my siblings and her siblings have been amazing hosts. That’s a testament to my mum’s impact on this world. It makes me proud to be her daughter. But it also makes me ask myself—am I living a life of impact? There is always more to do. I am more determined to continue the work I already do helping people with grief, loss and bereavement in any area of their lives. I guess Mummy
Prioritize your loved ones. Don’t assume they’ll always be there. Life is busy with work, raising kids, and everything in between. But make time for the people you love. Make time because it could all change in an instant. Forgive quickly too.
Proverbs 27:1 (NIV): "Do not boast about tomorrow, for you do not know what a day may bring." P.S I do believe the heavy thoughts of her were from the Holy Spirit but I didn't think it was a matter of urgency. I am happy that I know my mum is with Jesus. We will meet again.
To everyone who has reached out, thank you all so much. I am so grateful for your kindness towards me and my family in this season. God bless you.
So sorry for your loss and praying for comfort and peace for you and your family going forward in Jesus name. Thank you so much for sharing these pertinent lessons. May her soul continue to rest in eternal peace. Amen (sending hugs and love)