Living Fully in a Fragile World
A short reflection on love and loss
Another childhood baseball teammate just lost his father. This time, the cause was a car accident in mid-February, marking at least the seventh time in recent years that a former youth sport teammate has experienced such a devastating loss. The number is much higher when you include classmates from high school and college.
Growing up, I kinda thought of our parents as permanently middle-aged. They weren’t old or young, just adults. Steady, capable, always there for rides to school, meals, homework help, etc.
But in my late 20s, something has shifted. Another childhood friend’s parent is gone. A few years ago, several died in a six-month period. Two seemingly joyful parents killed themselves. Today, others are fighting cancer, strokes, and diseases that no one saw coming. The people who once drove us to school, sat in the bleachers at our games, and worked long hours to build our futures are disappearing. As kids, parents might seem invincible. Now, as we grow older, we’re starting to see that their lives can end quickly and that they have their own fears, flaws, wounds, and struggles.
In many ways, it feels too soon. For the most part, they’re only in their 50s and 60s. That used to sound young, but now it doesn’t feel that way. Now it feels like stolen time. As kids, we thought we had forever — there would always be another holiday, another birthday, another phone call. But the future isn’t a guarantee, because it’s a fragile thing, slipping through our fingers faster than we can hold on.
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And yet life moves on like nothing happened. Bills still need to be paid, emails still come in, the world doesn’t stop. So maybe all we can do is love people while we have them. Make the calls, show up, say the things now that we think we’ll have time for later, 'cause we may not.
And perhaps in the wake of these losses, there’s an invitation to live with greater intention. Because every heartbeat matters.
That’s partly why Ally and I have thrown ourselves into the moment: traveling to new places, volunteering our time and energy, surprising family (and strangers) with flowers, and trying to ensure our loved ones know they’re cherished. We tip generously, savor meals, and celebrate chance encounters as if they were our last. In our eyes, all of our spontaneous trips and bursts of joy are statements against the inevitability of time. It’s about honoring the fragility of our existence and choosing to fill our days with passion, kindness, and unforgettable experiences.
We’re trying to squeeze as much out of life right now because there’s no guarantee we reach 30, let alone retirement age.
So far through life’s first 27 years, I’ve found that later comes faster than we ever expect. Sometimes, it doesn’t come at all.
So, I ask you: How do you try to squeeze as much as you can out of these precious days on earth?
Celebrate your gifts,
Matthew