Health Reader Dorothy Marossero shares profound lessons about facing death and how to live with yourself.
Trigger Warning: This story contains themes that may upset readers.
I lost my mother to cancer almost 20 years ago when I was 26 years old. Only six weeks passed from his diagnosis to his death.
In my family, we didn’t really talk about death. We kept it quiet, maybe afraid that talking about it would make it more real or somehow make it worse. There was no place to be sad or to respect the enormity of what happened.
I remember feeling completely inadequate at his bedside. I didn’t know what to say, how to be, how to help him. I didn’t feel graceful or “strong”. I just showed… And, somehow, I know now that it was enough.
Her death was a huge event. It forced me to face death—his, mine, everyone.
For a long time it brought on panic attacks. But it also brought a wonderful and precious gift: the realization that life is incredibly fragile and precious.
This led me to ask myself questions that became guidelines: Where do I take my breath? What is really important to me?
Not long ago, I came across Bronnie Ware The Top Five Regrets of the Dead in which he shares the most common regrets people voice at the end of their lives:
- I wish I had the courage to live a life true to myself, not the life others expected of me.
- I wish I didn’t work so hard.
- I wish I had the courage to express my feelings.
- I wish I could stay in touch with my friends.
- I wish I could keep myself happier.
Ware’s book revealed something simple and profound: we all want to live true to ourselves, to be connected, to express what is real, to find balance, and to allow ourselves to be happy. In many ways, they all point to the first: the need to live true to oneself. But here’s the thing… it’s not always easy to know what being “true to yourself” means. We talk a lot about “alignment,” but what does it actually look or feel like? And how do we find our truth when life feels overwhelming, busy, demanding, or overwhelming?
What I’ve learned is this: your truth doesn’t necessarily scream. It lives beneath the noise, beneath the expectations, beneath the conditioning and the roles we have learned to play. We return to our truth by slowing down, just enough to hear ourselves. By softening the sound. By creating moments to pause, breathe and reflect.
Your body often knows your truth before your mind can express it.
Your body speaks with feeling: tension, heaviness, tightness – often “no”. Warmth, expandability, ease – often “yes”.
I think of countless times when I said no to something (usually with work) and immediately felt that tight, sick feeling in my body…because deep down I wanted to say no.
Your truth is somatic before logical.
And the truth is somewhat patient. Definitely stable. It comes back again and again through dreams, angers, dreams, harmony, small defects from life. If something is repeated, it should be listened to. We also find our truth by noticing what we are not, the commitments, habits and personas we carry.
When they soften or fall off, what’s left is often real.
So what does it mean to live in harmony?
For me, coordination is not about perfection. It’s about alignment—when your inner world and your outer choices finally align.
Living in harmony is as hand-shaken as your values and your actions. Saying yes feels good when it’s a real yes. Saying “no” when your whole body wants to say “no”. Create boundaries that value your energy. Choose a life that is yours, not someone else’s script.
After all, living in harmony is like breathing deeply. Coming home. Feelings that you don’t force or enforce – you are just who you already are.
If you find yourself in a rut where you feel out of touch with your truth, one of the best things you can do is slow down. Spend time in nature, relax or think about relaxing. In silence, away from the noise and expectations of everyday life, your truth will manifest in a gentle way. Pay attention to your whispers, your dreams, the subtle points of your body and heart – they often hold the guidance you’ve been searching for all along.
