I’ve really tried not to write this blog for the last few weeks.
A few weeks ago, I received a text from a friend saying he had heard a rumor that one of my friends had passed away. It wasn’t someone you’d expect to hear that about. He wasn’t at an age, or dealing with any known health issues, that would make something like this feel even remotely possible. The initial reaction was shock. Surprise. And honestly, a little disbelief.
I made a few calls. The kind of calls you hope you don’t have to make. The rumor, unfortunately, was true.
He was a friend. Not someone I saw every week or even every month, but someone I’d known for more than 20 years. Someone I interacted with regularly enough that he was part of the fabric of life. He was younger than me. A good guy. Shared similar passions. Recently married to an amazing woman. And someone my wife and I genuinely thought we might spend the next several decades with, enjoying life, experiences, and conversations because our ideals, thoughts, hopes, and dreams aligned.
Now the focus shifts.
Now the focus is on supporting her, walking alongside her as best we can, and helping her navigate what’s next in life through an unimaginably painful season. I don’t say that to suggest that there won’t be good times ahead. We hope there will be. We hope we can still share experiences, laughter, and connection. But it’s different. It will always be different.
What lingers most is the surprise. The shock.
Over the last several days, there’s been a steady, nagging feeling running underneath everything I do. It’s there while working. While driving. While doing the normal things that life asks of us. Several times a day, my thoughts turn to prayer for his wife, his family, and our broader group of friends as we all wrestle with the why, the disbelief, and the finality of it all.
There’s a part of you that wishes something could have happened differently. Faster. Slower. Earlier. Later. Anything that changes the outcome. But the fragility of life has a way of reminding us, often when we least expect it, that we are not in control.
I write often about perspective, about focusing on what’s important instead of what simply feels urgent. This was another reminder that you just never know. You never know when things will change forever.
When I’ve heard stories of people losing friends, children, or family members, I’ve often felt a mix of sadness and anger at the situation. This time, it’s mostly just sadness. Sad that he’s gone. Sad that there won’t be more time. Sad that I didn’t make more of an effort to get to know him even better than I did.
Life will go on. It always does.
I’m not a stranger to the grief cycle. As a psychology major in college, one of the courses that has stuck with me the most was on death and dying, studying the psychology surrounding loss. I know my own progression through grief will likely be quicker than those who were closer, and that’s natural. But I hope the lessons that come from it last a lifetime.
One of the hardest things to reconcile is how, from the moment we heard and confirmed the news, the rest of the world just kept moving. It was still Saturday. Still Sunday. People watched TV, worked around the house, chased kids to sporting events. Everything looked normal, while carrying this quiet, heavy awareness that the day was fundamentally different.
Unlike many of my blog posts, I’m struggling to land on a clean point here. Part of that is because concentration has been hard this past week. And the reason is simple. It’s grief.
Over time, wounds heal. Life finds a new version of normal. We will intentionally reach out, support, and do everything we can to be present for his family and friends. But this is a sobering reminder that time is short. That how you spend your time matters. Who you spend it with matters. What you choose to focus on matters.
There is never a better time than today to work on relationships. Regret is one of the hardest things to reconcile.
I’m thankful for the time I did have with him. Thankful for the conversations, the shared interests, and the connection. And while I wish there had been more, I’m reminded that none of us are promised tomorrow.
Choose today well.