I found a Mother’s Day card I wrote to my mom when I was seven.

The handwriting was messy. The spelling was creative!

But the message?

Pure love. Pure admiration.

She was everything to me. She still is.

My mom was the firstborn daughter of Scottish Protestant parents.

Let’s just say, there weren’t exactly conversations about emotions, identity, or what it meant to be a woman.

You figured things out.
You kept going.

You didn’t talk about it.

She was a nurse. She believed deeply in taking care of her health.

She stayed active her entire life. Walking, tennis, golf, skiing… always moving, always engaged.

She was involved in her community.

She showed up.

And for that, I am so grateful.

Because even if the words weren’t always there, the example was.

And now, at 95, with vascular dementia stealing moments, time is slipping away.

There are things I wish I could ask her that I never will. What did she truly want? What did she sacrifice silently? What did she believe about aging, her body, her life?

Those conversations are gone. And there’s no time to recover what’s lost.

And that realization stays with me.

Here’s what I know now, more than ever. We don’t just lose people all at once. Sometimes we lose them slowly.

Their stories.
Their wisdom.
Their truth.

And it makes me think about all the women I coach.

Brilliant, capable, generous women who are so busy taking care of everyone else, they’ve never stopped to ask themselves those same questions.

What do you truly want?

What do you sacrifice silently?

What do you think about aging, your body, and your life?

This week, don’t wait. Ask the questions. Have conversations.

With your mom, if you can.
With someone you love.
But also, with yourself.

And maybe this is the most important question:

If nothing changes, how will I feel 3 years from now?

Because aging isn’t just about what happens to you. It’s about what you choose, right now, while you still can.

Send a message.
Make the call.
Write it down.

Happy Mother’s Day.

Play on!

Your friend and coach,

Jan xo

PS:
If this brought someone to mind, tell me: What did they teach you, without ever saying a word?