She Lived to 99. Then She Said, “Mic Drop.”

Six days ago, my grandmother passed away at 99. As I reflected on her life, one thing became clear: intentional leadership isn’t just about how we lead teams or businesses, but how we choose to live, decide, and show up every day.

She lived fully. Rich in memory. Clear in mind.

On her 99th birthday, her caregiver helped her get dressed and ready for photos.

She said thank you, laid back in bed, and peacefully passed on.

Mic. Drop.

A week earlier, she had said to my aunt, “Make sure my nails are well groomed and my makeup is well done for my funeral.”

I laughed when I heard it. Then I paused.

Because here is the truth, we rarely sit with:

Life ends. Eventually. Let that sink in.

So why do we lead like we have unlimited draft?

Why do we:

Postpone impact. Delay bold decisions. Overthink visibility.

Shrink in rooms we were built to lead.

After years of working with high performers, I’ve noticed a silent but dangerous pattern, one that rarely gets called out:

• Procrastinated potential

• Deferred boldness

• Comfort disguised as strategy

And it almost always leads to one thing: Regret.

The only thing I fear about old age.

Is not wrinkles. Not slowing down. Not Gen Z outpacing me in tech.

It’s sitting still long enough to replay:

• The business I could have built

• The room I should have entered

• The conversation I avoided

• The risk I delayed

• The impact I minimized

Because I was “waiting for the right time.”

Here’s the hard truth:

Regret is rarely about what failed. It’s about what never started.

People don’t squander their potential overnight. They do it slowly.

By choosing comfort over courage. By letting fear sound like logic.

By criticizing younger dreamers instead of confronting their own stalled vision.

By staying in roles, strategies, or seasons they’ve clearly outgrown.

And when a season is wasted, the next one often carries bitterness.

Intentional Leadership Begins With the End in Mind

Nothing ages a leader faster than unrealized potential.

My grandmother, at 99, still cared about how she showed up.

Intentional.

Aware.

Decisive.

That stayed with me.

So here’s the commitment I’m making for myself and offering to you:

Whatever my hands find to do, I will do it wholeheartedly.

Not recklessly.

Not noisily.

But intentionally.

Because life is not a rehearsal.

You only get one.

BISOLA MOGAJI