THRESHOLD

Entry 20 – Every day is Someone’s Death Day

Every day, somewhere, a candle goes out.

A heartbeat halts into silence.

A name becomes memory.

The same way every sunrise is someone’s birthday,

every sunset is someone’s death day.

While one world opens its eyes to new beginnings,

another quietly closes its chapter.

It’s chilling,

how ordinary the world feels in moments like

this,

cars keep moving,

clocks keep ticking,

markets stay noisy,

winds still blow through trees,

a student is cooking up a circumstance to rip their parents off.

But for someone else,

everything has stopped.

Some families wake with joy,

others sleep with grief.

Some hearts expand with celebration,

others collapse under the weight of what was lost.

Every random date on the calendar is a life’s final mark,

a day their story paused mid-sentence,

a day breath refused to reconsider before leaving.

Life feels both fragile and fierce,

because the same earth that holds newborn cries,

also cradles final breaths.

The same sky that witnesses first steps,

also receives the last.

Every day,

the world loses someone who was loved,

needed,

important to somebody’s heart.

A mother.

A friend.

A child.

A neighbor.

A stranger who smiled at someone passing.

A soul who had dreams never achieved.

Everyday we take one more step closer to our death day –

not to frighten,

but to remind us that time is not a luxury …

it is a responsibility.

So until you become a past tense,

until you become a memory,

choose moments you would like to leave behind.

Imagine your own obituary

and what people will truly remember you for:

The problems you solved

or the ones you created?

how you lifted others?

or how you never cared to?

Will your funeral rites

and flowers brought to your grave

be just for formalities

while people inwardly rejoice

that you are gone?

Do you leave good footprints on people’s lives,

or do you make them want to leave their footprints on your face?

Because one day,

your name will be mentioned in a sentence that ends with “was.”

One day,

your clothes will be folded away,

your phone will stop ringing,

your bed will be slept on by someone else,

your laughter will only exist in memory.

And when that day arrives,

what will echo behind you?

The kindness you planted?

Or the harm you excused?

The peace you carried?

Or the chaos you stirred?

Daily our likes fall into the cold hands of death –

and one day, slowly or suddenly,

it will be ours too.

And life would keep moving,

not out of cruelty,

but because continuity is the only way the living survive the ache.

So if today feels heavy or slow, remember:

You are still here.

Still breathing.

Still part of the story.

Live gently,

love boldly,

and hold your people close,

because someone, somewhere,

would give anything for one more ordinary day.

Live in a way that love will not struggle to remember you… And goodness will not struggle to defend you.