When the Future you Fear is Loss

Yesterday at church, I heard about someone passing away after a long fight with cancer. It hit me in that quiet, heavy way where your body just… slows down for a moment.

It reminded me of co-workers I’ve lost.

It reminded me of when my mom passed.

It reminded me of when my dad passed.

And then my mind did what it always seems to do in moments like that — it started looking ahead. “Who’s next? Will it be someone close to me? Will it come for my family? Am I ready for that?”

When you live in a large community, whether it’s church, work, or your neighborhood, you quickly realize the odds — loss touches everyone eventually. And we all know this in our heads, but it’s another thing entirely to feel it.

Here’s where it gets tricky for me: part of me wonders if it’s even “healthy” to acknowledge how fragile life is. Isn’t that depressing? Doesn’t it take the joy out of living if I’m always waiting for the phone call, the diagnosis, the news?

And yet… pretending death isn’t part of life doesn’t make it go away. It just makes it more jarring when it shows up.

I don’t have answers here — I’m not writing this as someone who’s figured out the “right” way to think about loss. I’m writing as someone who wrestles with this in real time. I want to be fully present and enjoy the people I love without constantly scanning the horizon for danger. But I also want to live in reality, not denial.

This ties back to what I wrote yesterday about “pre-living outcomes.” Sometimes it’s not money or success we’re pre-living — sometimes it’s grief. And just like with success fears, living in that future steals from today.

I’m wondering if the challenge is this: to let the awareness of life’s fragility make me more grateful, not more fearful. Maybe that’s the beginning of wisdom.

I don’t know. But I’d like to talk about it.

Reflection Question:

How do you hold the awareness that life is fragile without letting it steal the joy of living today?