Memorial Day weekend often feels like the unofficial beginning of summer.
People head to lakes, gather with family and friends, fire up grills, plan vacations, and begin thinking about the months ahead. It’s a season that naturally turns our attention toward making memories and spending time with the people we love.
It also reminds me how often we postpone the things that matter most to us.
We wait for the perfect time.
The perfect schedule.
The perfect finances.
The perfect circumstances.
The perfect energy.
But life rarely becomes perfectly convenient.
One of the biggest lessons grief and caregiving taught me is this: we do not know our expiration date.
That realization has changed the way I think about bucket lists and meaningful experiences. Not in a reckless or extravagant way, but in a more intentional one. I’ve developed more of a “why not?” attitude toward the things that truly matter.
Near the end of John’s life, his cancer medication had stopped working. The cancer was continuing to grow and spread. He was trying other medications but some of the side effects were intolerable and didn’t align with the quality of life he wanted.
John loved New Orleans, especially the French Quarter. He wanted to go for New Year’s Eve.
Objectively, it wasn’t the “perfect” time for a trip.
He tired easily by then, so we planned ahead and brought a wheelchair to help preserve his energy for the parts he truly wanted to enjoy rather than exhausting himself simply getting from place to place.
If you’ve ever been to New Orleans, you know the French Quarter is not exactly wheelchair-friendly. There are uneven brick sidewalks, narrow pathways, and step-ups into many venues.
But what I remember most from that trip is not the logistical challenges.
I remember John sitting in his wheelchair, bald from treatment, wearing a huge smile on New Year’s Eve.
I remember strangers high-fiving him as we rolled through the streets. People wished us a Happy New Year. Without hesitation, complete strangers lifted his wheelchair over stairs and thresholds so he could continue enjoying the evening.
There was joy everywhere.
If we had waited for the “perfect time,” we never would have gone.
And I would have missed one of the most beautiful memories of our life together.
That experience changed my perspective.
It made me realize that bucket lists are not about checking glamorous destinations off a list. They are about paying attention to what makes us feel alive, connected, inspired, and fully present.
Sometimes that means a meaningful trip.
Sometimes it means finally saying yes to something much smaller.
A few years ago, I was taking a college class where we were asked to describe our dream job. I was already in the sunset of a rewarding career so I had a different perspective than my much younger classmates. It felt a little strange when it was my turn to share that my dream role was actually an unpaid position serving on a nonprofit board.
Later that same month, I happened to see the executive director of Gilda’s Club Kansas City at a concert. Normally, I probably would have waited. Thought about it more. Wondered whether it was realistic or whether I was qualified enough.
Instead, I walked up to her and simply said, “I want to join the board.”
To my surprise, she was thrilled.
We met for coffee, had a wonderful conversation, and now I serve on the board of an organization I deeply care about.
That opportunity did not arrive because the timing was perfect. It happened because I stopped postponing something meaningful to me.
I think many of us quietly carry a bucket list we rarely say out loud.
Not just major travel dreams, but smaller longings too:
- learning a skill
- reconnecting with someone
- volunteering
- spending more time in nature
- taking the trip
- starting the project
- writing the story
- making the call
- watching more sunsets
- creating more memories with the people we love
After John’s death, I also found myself drawn more deeply toward natural spaces. Mountains. Water. Forests. Desert landscapes. Places that remind me of the vast beauty of this planet and how precious it is simply to be here experiencing it.
Grief has a way of clarifying things.
It strips away some of the illusion that we have endless time.
But rather than making life feel smaller, I’ve found it has made life feel more vivid. More sacred. More worthy of attention now instead of someday.
That doesn’t mean everyone needs to book an expensive trip or dramatically change their life tomorrow.
Sometimes honoring your bucket list simply means:
- sitting on the porch with someone you love
- saying yes to the invitation
- trying the class
- planning the weekend getaway
- applying for the opportunity
- spending less time waiting for certainty
Because certainty is something none of us are promised.
As we move into summer and gather with the people we care about this Memorial Day weekend, perhaps this is a gentle reminder to ask ourselves:
What joy have I been postponing?
What meaningful experience keeps getting pushed into “someday”?
And what small step could I take toward it now?
We don’t know our expiration date.
But we do have today.
And maybe that is reason enough to start living a little more fully now instead of waiting for the perfect time that may never arrive.
