Tuesday Thoughts and the five wishes of the dying

Isabelle
3 days ago
3 min read

Hi Friends,

The Five Wishes of the Dying — and What They Ask of Us While We’re Still Living

I recently listened to a podcast that I needed to share with you. Not because it was dramatic, but because it was quietly, devastatingly true. The conversation centered around The Five Regrets of the Dying, a book written by Australian palliative care nurse Bronnie Ware, who spent years caring for people in the last weeks of their lives. As she listened, really listened, patterns emerged. The same wishes. The same ache. The same clarity that tends to arrive only when time runs out.

What struck me most wasn’t the sadness of these wishes, but how practical they are. None of them require a dramatic life overhaul. They ask for honesty, courage, and presence—things we can practice now, while we’re still very much alive.

Here are the five wishes, and what they gently invite us to consider.

1. “I wish I’d had the courage to live a life true to myself, not the life others expected of me.”

This was the most common wish Bronnie Ware heard. So many people realized too late that they had shaped their lives around approval, obligation, or fear of disappointing others. Dreams were postponed, minimized, or quietly abandoned. Not because they weren’t important, but because fitting in felt safer than standing out.

Living true to yourself doesn’t mean being reckless or selfish. It means listening to that inner nudge and taking it seriously. Even in small ways. Especially in small ways.

Affirmations:

I give myself permission to live honestly.
My desires matter.
I trust my inner voice.
I am allowed to change.
I choose authenticity over approval.

2. “I wish I hadn’t worked so hard.”

This one came up again and again, particularly from men, but not only. People didn’t regret working; they regretted missing life while they were busy making a living. Missed dinners. Missed sunsets. Missed moments that never came back.

This isn’t a call to quit your job and move to the woods. It’s an invitation to notice where your life has become all effort and no breathing room, and to question whether “busy” has quietly replaced “meaning.”

Affirmations:

My worth is not measured by productivity.
Rest is not a reward; it is a necessity.
I allow space for joy.
I honor my energy.
Presence matters more than perfection.

3. “I wish I’d had the courage to express my feelings.”

Many people held back words that mattered, love, anger, forgiveness, because it felt safer to stay quiet. Over time, that silence hardened into distance. Unspoken feelings don’t disappear; they settle into the body and the relationships we live inside of.

Expressing feelings doesn’t mean oversharing or creating drama. It means choosing honesty over emotional exile. Saying the thing kindly. Saying it while there’s still time.

Affirmations:

My feelings are valid.
I can express myself with clarity and kindness.
It is safe to be honest.
Vulnerability is strength.
My voice deserves space.

4. “I wish I had stayed in touch with my friends.”

Life gets full. Families, responsibilities, moves, and seasons pull people apart. And yet, at the end, many people longed not for more success, but for the friendships they let fade because reconnecting felt awkward or time-consuming.

Friendship requires tending. A message. A call. A willingness to reach out even when it’s been a while. Especially then.

Affirmations:

I value meaningful connection.
I am allowed to reach out.
Friendship enriches my life.
It’s never too late to reconnect.
I make space for the people who matter

5. “I wish that I had let myself be happier.”

This one is heartbreaking in its simplicity. Many people realized that happiness wasn’t something withheld from them, it was something they postponed. They believed they’d be happy after things were fixed, settled, resolved, or perfect.

Happiness, it turns out, is often a choice we practice, not a destination we arrive at.

Affirmations:

I allow myself to feel joy.
Happiness is safe for me.
I don’t need permission to enjoy my life.
Small moments count.
I choose lightness when I can

A Gentle Closing

The wisdom of the dying isn’t meant to frighten us—it’s meant to wake us up. These wishes aren’t accusations; they’re invitations. To live a little more honestly. To soften where we’ve been rigid. To stop waiting for “someday” and begin where we are.

We don’t need to get it all right. We just need to be awake enough to ask, now and then: If this were the end, what would I wish I’d done differently?

And then, while we still can, take one small step in that direction.

PS: Message me for a free consult to start moving toward a more confident you.

You are loved. Deeply loved. Loved beyond measure.