A reflection on grief, resilience, and remembering those still living with loss.
Have you ever noticed that no matter how much advice you get, you’re never really prepared for the next stage of life?
In your twenties, people tell you these are the things you’re supposed to do. In your thirties, here are the things you’re supposed to feel. Every decade has its list. And yet, with all the advice, you’re never truly prepared — because life is meant to be lived, not pre-scripted. You only really know once you’ve walked through it.
And when you’re in a season of loss, the gap is even wider. You can be told how to handle grief, how to cope, how to “move on.” But none of it touches you until you’re in it.
Everyone understands a breakup. Many people understand divorce. Everyone, at some point, will understand loss. But what about when you’re 79, 80, and you wake up to realize most of your friends are no longer here? Who prepares you for that?
We pour so much energy into the youth — and yes, it matters — but what about the rest of the world still here, still thriving, still taking selfies, still finding joy? What happens when you’re no longer popular, when society quietly shifts its attention to the next generation?
This isn’t about choosing one over the other. It’s about not losing sight of the people who came before us. Imagine waking up at 79 and your only prayer, besides gratitude for opening your eyes, is that you don’t get another phone call. Another friend gone. Another reminder that your circle is shrinking.
That thought hit me hard. It made me realize how much I’ve had to program my own mindset: if I don’t give myself something to look forward to, I slide back. Loss can freeze you. It can strip away the ability to move, to climb, to hope. And even as a natural problem solver, when it comes to grief, I’ve often been left asking: What now? How do I adjust without the voice that used to guide me?
Because when your beacon of light — the one who always pointed you toward safety, who said, “It’ll be okay” — is gone, you’re left to figure out how to navigate in the dark.
And I can only imagine the weight of being in your late seventies or eighties, when the laughter of old friends is gone, when the daily chatter is about who’s left, who’s hurting, whose children stepped up and whose didn’t. The conversation becomes about loss, chaos, confusion, absence.
So this is my reminder:
Don’t forget to check on the strong ones.
Don’t delay the call you think can wait until next week.
Because while you’re stressing over 10 pounds gained or an outfit that didn’t sit right, someone else is carrying a grief they’ll never be able to fix.
Life isn’t about “getting over it.” It’s about seeing that you always have other options. The person who’s gone wouldn’t want you stuck. They’d want you to smile again, to live again, to keep going. Forgiveness doesn’t always need an audience. Peace doesn’t need to be performative. Sometimes it’s just a quiet agreement with yourself: This is released.
Don’t forget the ones who came before. Don’t forget that they were once twenty. That they danced, they dreamed, they loved.
Their hands may move slower now, but those same hands once carried babies, built homes, created futures. Their pace may have softened, but it’s the same stride that once ran toward dreams and away from danger. Their skin may show lines, but every crease is a record of laughter, of worry, of living. Their eyes may dim, but still hold entire histories — joys, losses, and wisdom etched deeper than any screen can capture.
This is not weakness. This is survival. This is proof of life lived.
And don’t forget: one day you might be that person, looking around, realizing your closest friends are gone. You’ll want someone to check on you. You’ll want to feel seen.
It costs nothing to make a new friend. It costs everything to make an enemy.
So be kind with yourself. If you didn’t get it perfect, that only means you’re closer to being yourself. And that is not a bad thing.
Lesley D. Nurse is the author of uplifting self-development and children’s books, including Phoebe’s Bright Adventure: Finding the Light Within and God Is Working on a Bigger Yes. Her writing blends real-life moments with hope, joy, and inspiration.