I just finished a long conversation with my dad, and it hit me how many people you lose over the years, more than you can count.
The thing is, you don't lose everyone at once. That's the tricky part. Someone goes five months ago, another on a random Sunday, and before you know it, the list gets longer.
Most times, you only count the death of your immediate loved ones, like they're the only ones that matter. But when you sit down and really think about it, you realize there are so many others. People you once knew. People you had conversations with. People who were part of your formative years, or who you laughed with, or simply crossed paths with.
Not a celebrity on TV. Not a face in the media. Real people you interacted with, even if only for a moment. A friend of a friend. A colleague. A mutual. And when you start putting names to it, you realize how many of them are actually gone. That switch in your head is heavy.
The Randomness of Loss
You might think death has a formula. Old age. Sickness. But it doesn't. It shows up in random ways. A young pregnant woman in childbirth, the baby survives but she doesn't. A guy in his twenties, full of life, gone in a car crash. A back ache that turns into a hospital rush, and then no more. Someone who goes to bed and never wakes up. Even standing at a bus stop when a car swerves. There's no neat pattern, no script.
Carrying Forward
And so what do you do? You carry the memories of those who've gone. You pray for their peace. And you keep moving with what you have. Because while people are leaving, life is still unfolding. Good things are still happening. And only God knows what tomorrow will bring.
May the souls of all those we've lost rest in perfect peace.