I’ve been following Willem Meiners on Facebook for a while now. His stories often touch me, but recently he wrote something that deeply moved me. He had handwritten and sent 250 thank-you letters to people from his past and present. Not as a farewell at the edge of life, but right in the thick of it. It got me thinking: why wait until the very last hour to say what you’ve always wanted to say?
Willem asked himself a poignant question: suppose you only have one hour left to live, who do you call, what do you say? He turned it around: why wait until that last phone call? Why not start today? So, he took a pen, paper, and 250 stamps, and over the course of a year, he wrote 250 letters. Not just to family or dear friends, but also to former colleagues, neighbours, waitresses, a dental assistant, even the mechanic. Sometimes he wrote heartfelt words of love, sometimes a brief “thank you”, always personal and thoughtful.
What happened to him was special: The letters deeply touched the recipients. People going through a difficult time suddenly received an unexpected boost. Others were surprised that Willem still remembered them after so many years. A letter brightened a day, brought tears of emotion, or made someone feel truly important.
It moved me to the core so I asked myself the same question: Why wait? Why rush along on the train of life without pausing to think about the people who put you on this track in the first place? We often only say goodbye when it’s almost too late. But what if you thanked someone today? Not in your final hour, but now—while you can still receive the smile, the surprise, and the grateful response.
Willem shows that gratitude is a powerful gesture, for both the recipient and the giver. He discovered that the joy is often reciprocated: the letter brought comfort or joy, but also gave him satisfaction and connection. In fact, he gave not only letters, but also himself the opportunity to deepen meaningful relationships.
Expressing gratitude brings peace, recognition, and lightness. For yourself, it’s an exercise in pausing, reflecting, and acknowledging who shaped you. For others, it’s an unexpected gift—tangible proof that their role in your life was valuable. A compliment or thank you in a handwritten letter resonates more deeply than a fleeting text; it’s a tangible memory that people keep and reread, especially in difficult moments.
The responses Willem received underscore this point: a bankrupt friend felt seen again, a 70-year-old cashier found her motivation to keep working being confirmed, a mother who had lost a child felt touched again in her grief after years. And time and again, it became clear: a letter isn’t just ink on paper; it’s a gesture of love, respect, and humanity.
That’s why I want to invite you, the reader, to take on this challenge yourself. Write twenty letters or just start with five. Choose people who have helped you along the way—near or far, past or present. Don’t wait to write your last words in the shadow of death, but rather in the full light of your life. Let someone know what they meant to you and allow yourself the joy of their response.
Why wait? Give thanks today.
