For Suma: Silence, and the Lessons of Loss

Tenderness, and the quiet glow of hope

Life has its strange ways of showing us its contradictions. One moment it glitters with promise, laughter, routines, and sunshine. The next, it reminds us of how fragile it is, like a flame flickering in the wind.

Recently, I came to know of the untimely loss of Suma. She was not a close friend, but I knew her family well. Her husband and in-laws were familiar figures from my teenage years. The news unsettled me. A young woman, full of energy and possibilities, suddenly gone. She leaves behind two young daughters, and a silence that words cannot fill.

I found myself weighed down by sadness, even though she wasn’t part of my everyday life. Perhaps because her absence feels symbolic, a reminder that life is shorter than we ever imagine it to be. That fragility hums beneath the surface of our daily busyness.

And yet, life moves on. It has to. That is its harsh truth, and also its gift. The world does not pause. Her family, her friends, the larger circle around them, they are grieving, but they are also stepping into tomorrow, because there are children to raise, jobs to attend, meals to cook, responsibilities to shoulder. Movement does not erase sorrow, but it makes survival possible.

As I sat with my thoughts, I kept circling back to the idea of how differently we each see the world. What feels right to one may not feel the same to another. Our choices are shaped by our experiences, our values, and our search for meaning. Perhaps that is why we cannot all walk the same path, though we may cross one another’s lives for a while.

What I do know is that when hurt deepens or when anger collides with anger, healing becomes difficult. In small and large ways, we see this everywhere... in families, in friendships, in communities, even among nations. Everybody is carrying their own struggles, raising their own versions of war and peace. Sometimes it’s loud and visible; sometimes it’s silent, within homes or hearts.

But beneath it all lies a simple truth: most people are not trying to change the world when they hold on to or let go of something. They are simply searching for peace in their own way, hoping to quiet the restlessness within.

Perhaps that is what makes life both bright and sad at once. Bright, because we continue to love, to dream, to hope. Sad, because we know that nothing lasts forever. Fragile, because any moment can change everything.

In the end, maybe the only way forward is to hold these contradictions without trying too hard to resolve them. To walk gently, to keep faith, to remind ourselves that life’s brevity is also its intensity. That every smile, every conversation, every choice carries weight. And that peace, however we find it... is worth seeking, and worth holding on to.

Photo: AI genetated