I didn’t cry when they told me.

I just sat there, nodding, staring at the floor while the doctor said things like “advanced stage” and “non-operable.” My hands were in my lap, still covered in dirt from work that morning. I remember thinking, I should’ve washed up before coming in here.

They gave me an estimate. Months, not years. I asked if I could have it in writing—not because I didn’t believe them, but because I knew I’d forget everything else they said.

That night, I went home and sat under the gum tree out back. Same spot I’d been sitting since I was a kid. Same view. Same breeze. And I asked myself: If this is really it… what’s the one thing I still want to do?

It wasn’t skydiving or fancy travel. I didn’t care about bucket lists or bucket hats or any of that. I just wanted one thing.

I wanted to make things right.

I’d spent so many years running away from my mistakes, pushing people away, burying all the guilt I’d carried for far too long. My relationships had suffered. My friendships had crumbled. I’d been selfish, distant, and too focused on my own problems to see the pain I caused others. But now, with my time running out, all I could think about was the chance to mend what was broken.

I couldn’t undo the past, but maybe, just maybe, I could give it one last try.

I called Sarah first. She was the one I’d hurt the most. The one who had loved me unconditionally, even when I didn’t deserve it. She had stood by me through everything—the late nights, the excuses, the broken promises—and I had let her slip away. I knew, deep down, that if I had made different choices, maybe things could’ve turned out differently for us.

But I had no more time for what-ifs.

“Sarah, it’s me,” I said, my voice shaky as I tried to find the words. “I know I’ve messed up. I’ve hurt you, and I’ve made so many mistakes. I don’t expect you to forgive me, but I just… I need you to know that I’m sorry. I should’ve been better. I should’ve been there for you.”

There was silence on the other end of the line, and I could almost hear her trying to decide whether or not to hang up. But then, to my surprise, she spoke.

“I know you’ve been through a lot, and I’ve seen it. I’ve seen you struggle. But that doesn’t change what you did, or how you made me feel. But, I guess… I guess I always wondered why you didn’t fight for us. I never understood it.”

Her words cut deeper than I expected. I’d never really asked myself that before. Why hadn’t I fought for her? Why had I let her go so easily when she was the one person who truly saw me for who I was?

“I know,” I whispered. “I didn’t fight because I was scared. Scared of failing, scared of losing, scared of everything. But I regret it every single day.”

She paused again, and I could hear her breathing on the other end. Finally, she spoke, but this time, her voice was softer, less angry.

“You know, I’ve moved on. I’ve built a life for myself without you. But I always hoped, deep down, that one day you’d realize what you lost.”

“I have,” I replied. “And I hate myself for it. I just wish I had one more chance to prove to you that I can be the man you always believed I could be.”

“I don’t know if that’s possible,” she said, her voice trembling slightly. “But I appreciate you saying this. It means something.”

It wasn’t much, but it was something. And at that moment, I felt a weight lift off my chest. I wasn’t going to get her back—at least, not in the way I had always dreamed. But I had said what needed to be said. I had apologized, and for the first time in years, I felt like I could breathe a little easier.

The next day, I reached out to my old friend, Mark. We’d been close in our twenties, sharing laughs and stories, but somewhere along the way, we’d drifted apart. I hadn’t even realized how far until I went through my old phone contacts and saw his name.

Mark had been the one person who always had my back, who never judged me. But I had shut him out when I started making poor decisions. I never called when I should have, never checked in when I needed him the most.

I wasn’t sure if he’d answer, but I had to try.

“Mark, it’s been a long time, man,” I said when he picked up. “I don’t know if you even remember me, but I owe you an apology. I should’ve been there for you. I should’ve stayed in touch. I was a terrible friend, and I’ve been carrying that guilt for years.”

There was a pause, and I could hear him letting out a small laugh.

“I’m not gonna lie,” he said, his voice warm despite the distance between us. “I thought you fell off the planet for good. But you know what? I’ve been waiting for this. I’ve been waiting for you to realize what you lost. It’s good to hear from you, man. I’m not angry, just… disappointed. But hearing you say that, it means a lot.”

“I get it,” I said, swallowing hard. “I don’t deserve forgiveness, but I hope you can at least know that I’m sorry. I’ve done a lot of thinking lately, and I realized how much I’ve hurt people, including you.”

“You’ve been a mess, but I get it,” Mark said, his tone softening. “I’m glad you’re reaching out. I’m not sure what that means for us, but we’ll see. Let’s talk more when you’re ready.”

Another small victory. Not a complete healing, but progress. Progress was enough.

The last person I needed to speak to was my sister, Emily. She’d always been the steady one in our family—the one who kept it all together when everything else fell apart. But I had taken her for granted, used her support without offering much in return. I’d relied on her, expected her to always be there, and never truly appreciated the sacrifices she made for me. I knew that I owed her an apology more than anyone.

“I’ve been thinking about you a lot lately,” I said when she picked up the phone. “And I want to apologize. I haven’t been the best brother. I’ve been selfish, and I know it’s hurt you. I’m really sorry for taking you for granted.”

Emily was quiet for a moment, and I could hear the soft rustling of something in the background.

“You’re right,” she said finally. “You have taken me for granted. And I’ve let you. I’ve always been there for you, no matter what. But I’ve also had to hold a lot of things together on my own. And I’ve resented that. I guess I just always thought you’d come around.”

“I should’ve been there for you, Em,” I said, feeling my throat tighten. “I should’ve supported you more. I wasn’t there when you needed me, and I’m sorry.”

“I appreciate you saying that,” she replied. “It’s been a long road, but we’ll figure it out. I’m glad you’re finally seeing it. I just hope it’s not too late.”

We spoke for a while longer, and although things weren’t perfect, I could hear the sincerity in her voice. That was enough for me.

Over the next few weeks, I continued to reach out to the people I’d hurt. I made amends where I could, offered apologies, and sought forgiveness. Some accepted it; others needed more time. But I learned something during that period that I didn’t expect: it wasn’t about fixing everything. It was about showing up. It was about saying the words that needed to be said, even if they didn’t change everything overnight.

And then came the twist—the karmic twist I never saw coming. As I worked through my own healing, I received an unexpected windfall. A former client I had worked with years ago reached out to me, asking if I would help with a new project. The work was more lucrative than I could have imagined, and suddenly, I had the resources to make my final days more comfortable.

It was a reminder, a lesson from life that sometimes, when you do the right thing, even if it feels small, it opens doors in ways you never expect. The work didn’t cure my illness, but it brought me peace, and with that, I found something even more valuable—reconciliation.

So, as I look back now, I realize that making amends wasn’t just about mending my relationships with others—it was about mending myself. It was about finding peace before it was too late.

If you’re holding onto regrets or unspoken words, don’t wait. Don’t wait for the perfect time or the perfect moment. Sometimes, the only thing you need is the courage to say, “I’m sorry.” You may not be able to fix everything, but you’ll find that peace is worth the effort.

Please share this post if you think it could help someone else. You never know how much a little honesty can change everything.