One of the most profound life lessons I learned from my father is something I now call final acts of love.

We say we love people. And sometimes we show it—through presence, through sacrifice, through thoughtful gestures. But if we’re honest, many of our acts of love are given with the possibility of return. Even when we don’t expect anything grand, we may still hope for acknowledgment, appreciation, or some kind of emotional reward.

But then there are final acts of love. These are different. These are the quiet, sacred things we do when the person we love is no longer here to see it, to respond, or to say “thank you.” They are not done for closure or for performance. They are done simply out of love. They are the kind of gestures that flow from a heart that still honors, still remembers, still chooses to give even when it knows it won’t receive anything in return.

The first time I recognized this kind of love, I saw it in my dad. He didn’t talk about it much, but I saw it in the way he carried out certain actions—deliberate, tender, intentional—for people who were no longer here to ask, to appreciate, or to acknowledge. And it left a mark on me. Ever since then, I’ve tried to live in a way that carries that same spirit. To give when there’s no spotlight. To love when there’s no applause. To honor even in silence.

As I searched through Scripture, one story stood out to me so clearly: the account of Joseph of Arimathea and Nicodemus. After Jesus died—brutally, publicly, and unjustly—there wasn’t a long line of people waiting to care for His body. But these two men stepped forward. Joseph went to Pilate and asked for permission to take Jesus’ body. Nicodemus brought about seventy-five pounds of myrrh and aloes—enough for a king’s burial. Together, they wrapped His body in linen and spices and placed Him in a tomb that had never been used.

They didn’t do it for recognition. Jesus wasn’t alive to say “thank you.” This wasn’t a favor that could ever be returned. But they did it anyway. Because they loved Him. Because it was right.

The Bible says in John 19:38–39 (KJV), “And after this Joseph of Arimathaea… besought Pilate that he might take away the body of Jesus: and Pilate gave him leave. He came therefore, and took the body of Jesus. And there came also Nicodemus… and brought a mixture of myrrh and aloes, about an hundred pound weight.” That act still speaks today—more than two thousand years later.

Another story that touches this theme is the story of David and Mephibosheth. Years after David’s closest friend Jonathan had died, David, now king, remembered the covenant they shared. He asked if there was anyone left in the house of Saul to whom he could show kindness for Jonathan’s sake. Eventually, they found Mephibosheth, Jonathan’s son, who was disabled in both feet. Society may have dismissed him, but David honored him—restoring his inheritance and giving him a permanent seat at the king’s table. David didn’t do it for gain. He did it because love doesn’t forget. And love doesn’t expire when someone dies.

The Bible says in 2 Samuel 9:7 (KJV), “Fear not: for I will surely shew thee kindness for Jonathan thy father’s sake, and will restore thee all the land of Saul thy father; and thou shalt eat bread at my table continually.”

These are final acts of love. Selfless. Quiet. Unseen by most, but loud in heaven. They remind me that love doesn’t end when life does. That honor can still be shown long after the voice is silent. That even when the person is gone, you can still choose to be kind to their memory. You can still do the thing they would have done—or wanted to do. You can still carry their values forward in your actions.

And so I ask: is there someone whose memory you carry in your heart? Someone whose life touched yours deeply? What would a final act of love look like for them?

Maybe it’s something simple. Maybe it’s something symbolic. Maybe it’s time to stop waiting for a “thank you” and just do the thing your heart has been nudging you to do. Because love—true love—still gives when no one’s watching. And sometimes, its loudest expression is the one that expects no response.

Love remains. Even after the goodbye.

Categories: My lifestyle

Tags: biblical reflections, Christian, Faith, Final acts of love, grief and healing, Intentional living, Legacy, Life lessons, love