“That’s where we are all going… life is short.” It stops me. It triggers something deep within me. Not because it isn’t true but because of how carelessly it is said.
There are moments when words that are meant to make sense of death end up feeling more like a slap than a comfort.
When someone says, “We are all going to die,” in response to any loss, what are they really saying? Is it supposed to make the grief easier to carry? Because to me, it doesn’t.
It feela like grief is being minimized. As though mourning is just a footnote to the grand truth of mortality.
But here is what I know: When you have felt grief, truly felt it and when you have buried someone you love, cried into a pillow at night, prayed for one more chance and then death stops being a theory. It becomes personal. It becomes sacred.
In that sacredness, words must tread gently.
We need to learn how to hold silence better. Or if we must speak, let our words be soft, human, present. Not philosophical. Not dismissive.
Sometimes, it’s okay to just say “That’s hard.” “I’m sorry.” “May they rest in peace.” And stop there. Like stop there and look on because grief is different.
Not because we fear the truth of death but because we honour the weight of life.
I don’t know why death happens the way it does. I don’t know if it’s written, random or something in between. But I do know this; the way we speak around loss matters. It can comfort or it can wound.
So may we be careful. May we be kind. May we never let our acceptance of death strip us of compassion for those still living through its sting.
TUHAME ❤️