When Love Is Loud Only After Death

The reality of death has a way of pulling me back into thoughts I have carried for a long time. Thoughts about life, about people, about the strange honesty death brings.

There are people who conveniently look away while you are alive. Not because they lack money to help, but because they lack presence. No words. No encouragement. No check-in. Silence. You could be drowning emotionally, and they would walk past you as if you do not exist. Yet these same people will exhaust themselves seeking validation from strangers, people whose approval feeds their ego but means nothing to their soul.

Then death happens. Suddenly, they cry. Suddenly, they post long tributes. Suddenly, they “always cared.” It is hypocrisy at its loudest.

I sometimes wish the dead could see the performances people put on after they are gone. The tears. The wailing. The captions written for applause, not truth. Because if the departed could speak, many would ask, where was this love when I was breathing?

Let it be said clearly, this is not “just life.” This is character. This is personality. This is who a person truly is. You know exactly what you are doing.

Some people do not have the capacity for genuine love while it matters. They only understand affection when it is safe, when the person can no longer ask, need, or disappoint them. Death becomes their stage, and mourning becomes their disguise.

But love is not proven at the grave. Love is shown in presence. In choosing people while they are alive. In standing with them when there is nothing to gain.

If you could not show up for someone while they were breathing, do not perform when they are gone. Silence would be more honest. May we learn to love people loudly while they are alive. And may we have the courage to be real, even when no one is watching.