Three weeks ago, I preached my very first eulogy—stepping in for my dad, who had to be rushed to the hospital. The message I shared came from his sermon notes, “Death Is Only a Shadow.” One verse that stood out to me during that message was from 1 Samuel 20:3 , where David said to Jonathan: “But truly, as the LORD lives and as your soul lives, there is but a step between me and death.” If I’m honest, 2025 has felt like a year marked by loss. Death has been moving through families and communities, hitting hard and often. I’ve attended more funerals this year than I can count. I’ve seen more “In Memory Of” posts and RIP tributes than I ever wanted to. I’ve cried tears of sorrow for loved ones and friends who are no longer here—people I can’t call, laugh with, or hug on this side of heaven. I’ve also carried the weight of others’ grief, feeling the sting of their pain. One thing is certain: we will all walk that road when our time comes. The real question is—are we living with the end...
There are moments in life when everything feels like it’s unraveling at once. When grief doesn’t knock— …it kicks down the door. Lately, I’ve been living in one of those moments. Watching my sister slip into another relapse, my mother bound by the weight of severe depression, while my father, siblings, and even the grandchildren carry the silent burdens of what feels like a collapsing family. Everyone is hurting. Everyone is surviving. Barely. And the pain? It’s loud, but we’ve all learned to whisper about it. Help! My family is falling apart. The Reality Behind Closed Doors People see us smiling in public and assume we’re okay. But they don’t see the family truth behind locked doors. They don’t see how trauma ripples through generations like a virus. And we’ve all been infected. No one talks about the shame of watching a loved one relapse again. Or the helplessness of seeing your once-strong mother not be able to get out of bed. Or how numb the rest of us become just ...