“The Missed Call”
It was just one missed call. I saw the notification flash on my phone as I rushed through my usual routine — getting ready for work, grabbing my coffee, and heading out the door. I figured I’d call back later, once things slowed down. There’s always time, right?
The day passed in a blur of emails, meetings, and deadlines. By the time I got home, I had forgotten about the missed call. It wasn’t until I saw my phone again, sitting on the kitchen counter, that it hit me. The call was from Brianna.
We hadn’t spoken in months. Not because we were angry or had drifted apart, but because life had a way of pulling us in different directions. Brianna was always busy, chasing her next big idea, traveling to some new place, while I stayed rooted in the same city, in the same routine.
I sat on the couch, staring at her name on my screen. Something about it felt heavy, like I had missed more than just a call.
Later that night, I decided to call her back. The phone rang a few times, then went straight to voicemail. I left a quick message, telling her I’d call again later. But later never came.
A few days passed, and I hadn’t heard back from Brianna. I figured she was busy — she always was. But then, a mutual friend reached out with the news that hit me like a punch to the gut. Brianna had passed away in a car accident. Just a few days before.
That missed call? It had been her last.
I couldn’t stop replaying it in my mind. One call, one moment I let slip by. What if I had picked up? Would we have had one last conversation, one last laugh? Would she have told me something she needed to say? Or maybe it would’ve been just another chat about her latest adventure. I’d never know.
For days, I carried that guilt with me. It’s strange how we assume we have all the time in the world to stay connected, to say what we need to say, to call people back. But sometimes, life doesn’t give us that luxury. Sometimes, it’s one missed call that becomes the regret you can’t shake.
I started going through old texts and messages, rereading our last conversations. They were simple, ordinary — talking about catching up soon, making plans that never happened. I kept thinking about how much we take those moments for granted, how we let the little things slip because we assume there’s always tomorrow.
But tomorrow isn’t promised.
In the days that followed, I started reaching out to people I hadn’t talked to in a while — friends I had lost touch with, family I hadn’t called in months. I didn’t want to wait for another missed call to remind me of how fragile our connections really are.
Brianna was always full of life, always pushing me to be more spontaneous, to live with more purpose. And now, in her absence, she had taught me the most important lesson of all: Don’t wait. Don’t put off the things that matter — the people, the conversations, the moments.
It’s easy to get caught up in the whirlwind of our daily lives, to push off what feels like small things for later. But those small things? They’re what make up our lives.
I never got to return Brianna’s call, but in a way, she left me with something far greater — a reminder to show up for the people who matter, before it’s too late.
Has there ever been a moment you wish you could go back to? A call you wish you had taken or a person you wish you had reached out to sooner? Share your thoughts in the comments, and let’s talk about how we can all be a little more present in the moments that matter. 👏🏽💬
