When Time Becomes Precious (written by Sebastian)

Over the past months, life has shifted in quiet, irreversible ways. My mom was diagnosed with cancer last year. At first, we were hopeful. Then came the setbacks. And now, we're at a point where time feels limited. There are still good days, and we hold on to them tightly. But the truth is: things are changing. She’s changing. And so am I.

Watching someone you love slowly lose strength is a strange experience. It makes you realize how fragile everything is – not just the body, but the everyday moments we take for granted. A shared coffee. A short walk. A quick phone call. I’ve started to count them in my head, to store them like little treasures. I know that one day soon, they might run out.

It’s painful, of course. But it also brings incredible clarity.

Family time in March 2024

Sebastian and his Mom

I always wanted to become a dad. It’s something Christoph and I talked about on our very first date. But over the last year, this wish has turned into something deeper. It’s no longer just a dream of the future – it has become a way of holding on to the values my mom gave me. A way to carry them forward.

My mom taught me so much: how to listen without interrupting, how to find joy in small things, how to show up for the people you love. She’s always been the quiet strength in our family – the person who held everything together without asking for praise. Seeing her go through this illness, still with so much dignity and love, makes me want to honor her legacy in the best way I can: by becoming the kind of parent she was to me.

Sometimes I imagine her holding our child. It’s a picture I hold on to tightly. I don’t know if that moment will happen. But the hope of it carries me. It gives this journey we’re on even more meaning. It reminds me that life isn’t just about what we lose – but about what we build, what we pass on, and who we become in the process.

This journey to parenthood has not been easy. But I wouldn't trade it. It has shaped us – made us more patient, more honest, more certain of what we want. Through every step, every setback, every person we met along the way, we became more of who we are meant to be as future dads.

I know we can't control time. But I know what I want to fill it with: presence, laughter, and a child who grows up knowing that people moved mountains to bring them into this world – and that somewhere out there, there is a grandmother who would have done anything to see them smile.

— Sebastian

Sebastian wrote this in May 2025, while his mother was still with us. She passed away later that year. We've left the post as it was – because it's true to the moment it came from.