I almost saw my dad die.
He was riding his motorcycle. We were in a car behind him.
The light turned green. He rolled through the intersection.
Out of nowhere, a van blew the red light from the right.
My dad, thinking fast, throttled it—and the van missed him by feet.
A few feet separated him from life and death.
A few feet separated me from growing up without a father.
It all could’ve ended right there.
Life is precious.
Fragile. Fleeting.
Gone in an instant.
We forget this in the grind—working towards goals, doing what needs to be done, keeping the lights on.
But every breath, every sunrise, every person you love—it’s all on borrowed time.
Don’t waste it. Don’t take it for granted.