What if tomorrow never comes?

Three days before my mother's death, I made a terrible mistake that will perhaps haunt me for the rest of my life. From the moment I set my eyes on her coffin and her funeral began, the weight of this mistake became almost unbearable. My regrets overwhelmed me uncontrollably and I could not hold back tears until she was lowered six feet.

I feel compelled to publicly share this painful mistake, not to dwell on my regret, but in the hope that others might learn from it - especially those who underestimate the destructive consequences of such a blunder or who are still under its grip. If sharing this painful chapter of my life inspires even one person to take action today, then it will have served a meaningful purpose.

The consequences of such a mistake vary from person to person, and it is an error that many people around the world mistakenly consider to be insignificant or trivial and unworthy of serious concern. Indeed, at first glance, it appears ordinary and harmless. However, upon closer examination, it becomes clear that it is extremely dangerous, with the capacity to turn opportunities into regrets and potential into loss. It has altered the course of countless lives in a disruptive way, sometimes preventing individuals from reaching the highest levels in their careers and endeavours. One of the things that makes it lethal is that it creeps in silently and unnoticed. Once it has infiltrated the mind, it becomes ruthless and destructive, offering persuasive justifications that encourage delay, even when immediate action is both possible and necessary. Its consequences can sometimes be cruelly fatal. That thing is PROCRASTINATION. I don't know how it may have affected you, but I am a victim of this monster, and the damage it has caused me is irreversibly painful.

On 3 December 2025, my mother concluded her earthly sojourn with grace and distinction at the venerable age of 106. I strongly believe that she transitioned to the eternal realm her soul had long anticipated. One month later, precisely on 3 January 2026, she was – in recognition to her great legacies cherished with the utmost devotion – laid to rest in a ceremony defined by dignity, restraint, and profound respect.

Shortly before her death, I called her. During this call, I joked with her as usual. Like many of our previous calls, it was filled with laughter. I teased her. I told her to get ready quickly because I was on my way home to pick her up for a party. She understood the joke, and we all burst into laughter, including my sister Chibuzo. It gladdened my heart. Life rarely grants us the privilege of knowing when we are saying our last goodbye to our loved ones.

My mother loved chicken. During that call, I promised to buy her some. However, I was trapped in the deceptive comfort of tomorrow, and kept on procrastinating, unaware that death was near. Three days passed while I remained entangled in that needless delay. Then, my phone rang, and it was my beloved sister, Chibuzo. Her voice carried a sorrow I will never forget. She delivered the devastating news in just a few words, 'Our mother has joined our ancestors.' Then she ended the call. The ordinary promise of an ordinary chicken I had made instantly became a haunting symbol.

It was shockingly cruel. The unfulfilled promise tortured me on the day of her burial, and made my tears uncontrollable. I was constantly blaming myself and felt terribly bad. The bad feeling was not because she had lacked, but because I had promised her something I never fulfilled, and death had mercilessly slammed that door forever. This knowledge and memory are aching and horrifying. My eyes are still filled with tears each time I remember this. I am so disappointed with myself. Procrastination is a bastard, and may thunder fire devil.

If you are reading this, please stop procrastinating. Whatever it is that you have been putting off, start to do it now. Call your parents, your siblings, your uncles, your nieces, your nephews, your friends etc. That call may seem ordinary today, but you never know, it could be a lifesaving call. It could be the conversation that heals a wounded relationship, restores a broken bond, or gives someone the reassurance the person desperately needs. Note that, the smallest action we postpone today could become the greatest regret we carry when the opportunity is gone.

Some people even procrastinate when it comes to their health. They notice warning signs in their body that require a doctor's attention, but keep putting off the visit with flimsy excuses. By the time they finally act, a manageable problem has become life threatening. Many people know they need to exercise more, change their unhealthy habits and take better care of themselves, yet they keep saying, “I will start tomorrow.” Tomorrow becomes next week, then next month, and eventually another year, until the opportunity to change is no longer guaranteed. Whatever we carelessly postpone today may haunt us tomorrow.

In honour of our mother, we made the deliberate and principled decision to uphold her beliefs and modest lifestyle by holding a simple and dignified burial free from ostentation, in line with the core values of our family. This was a clear departure from the prevailing trend in Igbo land, where funerals often become elaborate displays of wealth. Accordingly, the undertakers were firmly instructed to refrain from any show behaviour or dancing with our mother’s coffin. Nevertheless, one truth was clear to everyone present, every guest was welcomed generously and left well catered for, in keeping with the enduring spirit of hospitality she embodied. Looking back today, all our family members are extremely happy, satisfied and proud of the choices we made.

During her funeral, many people who did not know about my personal relationship with my mum or what I was going through questioned my uncontrollable tears. To them, my mum was aged enough. Why the profound tears? Some people reading this might also say that my reason for crying so much was not enough. But anyone who knows it feels it.

Do not postpone for later or tomorrow what you can do now, because you may never have later and tomorrow may be too late. Even, what if tomorrow never comes at all, like it is in my case?

Please Mama, wherever you are, I beg for your forgiveness. I am devastated and deeply sorry. Continue to rest in peace, till we meet again. Adieu!

Uzoma Ahamefule, a concerned patriotic citizen, and a refined African traditionalist, writes from Vienna, Austria.

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