This will be one of the most difficult things I’ll try to write. The words and concepts aren’t hard to understand, but they are hard to express.

If you love someone, tell them.

If you think they’re awesome, a great friend, a treasured lover, a valued colleague, a dear family member, a beloved spouse … tell them how you feel.

You may get another chance if you don’t now. Or you may not.

There were things I wanted to tell my dad and things I wanted to tell my Angi and I thought there would be time.

We couldn’t have foreseen what befell Dad; in fact, we don’t even know for sure what took him. After EMTs revived him, we were glad for the chance to say some of the things we wanted to say to him, just on the chance that in his comatose state he might still hear and recover … or at least, hear.

We knew what was likely in store for Angi, though we prayed against it. We had some time to say some of those things while she could still hear and understand, though the cancer took her speech away fast and put her in a coma as well, soon after.

There will never be time enough to say all the things we want to say to our dearest ones when it’s time to go. My family and I were blessed to have the time we were given with the ones we love.

And it’s not like they don’t already know … even before the worst happens and the end comes. They do.

Still, you wish you could have said it again, one more time, a dozen times, a thousand times.

You can’t.

But you can say it now. You can tell them now, before the bad comes and the end looms close. You can tell them while they can hear and understand; while they can still know and recognize; while they can appreciate and reciprocate.

They might not return your love in the way you might wish.

They might reject it outright. Rudely, even cruelly.

But they might not.

Go ahead and say it.

What’s the worst that could happen?

Trust me about this:

Not saying it.