Are we all going to grow old and die one day?

Lately, this thought has been sitting heavily in my heart.

One of the strange things about becoming an adult is that no one really prepares you for the moment you realise your parents are growing older too. As children, our parents seem permanent, strong, capable and always there. Somehow, in our minds, they remain, still your parents, while we rush through school, build careers, get married, have children, and chase our dreams.

Then one day, you look at them closely.

The grey hair is no longer just a few strands. They move a little slower. Their faces tell stories of decades, and suddenly, it hits you; they're ageing.

My dad has aged.

He's aged more than I realised, and every time I think of it, my heart aches just a little more. Living thousands of miles away makes it even harder. I wish I could spend more ordinary days with him. Instead, so much of our relationship happens through phone calls, sometimes shorter and less frequent.

The older we become, the more we realise that time isn't standing still for the people who raised us. Every "I will see you soon" becomes a prayer.

Then another thought follows.

If this is how I feel about my parents... one day, my own children may feel this way about me.

As a mother, I too am growing older every single day. One day, they will notice the lines on my face, the slower pace in my steps, the grey in my hair. One day, they too will have to imagine a world without me.

That thought changes everything.

It makes me ask myself: What will they remember?

Will they remember that I was present? That I laughed with them? That I made them feel safe? That I hugged them often? That I chose moments over distractions? That they always knew they were deeply loved?

Because when all is said and done, our children won't remember every toy we bought or every achievement we celebrated. They'll remember how we made them feel. They'll remember our voices, our embraces, our traditions, our kindness, and the ordinary moments that quietly became extraordinary.

Maybe that's the real work of life not simply growing older, but leaving behind a love so deep that it outlives us.

We're all growing older. None of us can stop time.

But perhaps we can make sure that, when the people we love remember us, they remember a life that loved them. Not broken promises or painful memories.