When we’re young we are immortal. At least that’s how it feels to us at the time. Nothing we do can hurt us, and everyone around us is also immortal.

Having children changed all that, and mortality crept in at an alarming rate. I’d just got used to the fact that we’re not all here forever when it started. You know what I mean. We’ve all been through it by now; people that we love start dying. The list of people isn’t important but those people were, at least to me.

It starts as a trickle but somehow before you can blink it’s a raging river of loss. There’s a realization at some point that the torrent is unlikely to recede; the fact is that as we get older, those around us will just keep passing away. Sometimes you can “push through” and deal with the loss. Other times you are devastated. Right now I’m devastated.

I miss my friends, school chums, family, spouse and parents that died. I miss their voices and their wisdom. I miss their silliness and their love. I miss so many things that are now just memories, or perhaps a two-dimensional capture of a moment in a picture or a video. To want them here again is, I suppose, normal. It’s in moments of loss that it all comes tumbling back though; not just the person you’ve just lost but all of the others, memories brought back to you one after the other.

I am lucky. I have a beautiful, supportive family. Our kids have amazing potential and will grow into wonderful adults and parents, continuing the cycle of life and bringing joy to those around them. For a time they’ll be immortal too, and that’s just fine with me.


It had been a rough period for him – his business had failed, he’d lost his home and later his wife, and the emotional toll was, he felt, significant.

Debt and death had a funny way of reaching into the depths of one’s being and shutting out the light he mused, and as he reflected on the past few years he realized that his world was much darker than he had previously thought.

He posited that the problem with darkness was that light alone was insufficient to illuminate one’s existence – one needed energy as well, otherwise the light would flicker out as quickly as it had been created.

His problem, he realized, was that he was exhausted both mentally and physically – energy was something that escaped him, instead he felt drained and lifeless.

He felt her before he knew her, sensing her vitality and her light that burned with such intensity he was sure he would go blind if he looked into her eyes; he looked anyway and as he did so he realized that that same light was the end of the tunnel.

Lillie McFerrin Writes