Death
Grief, Gratitude, and Perspective
Roughly 8,400 people die every day in the U.S.
Around 170,000 globally. Every single day.
You read that… and probably feel nothing.
Just numbers.
Since October, about 2,000 Israelis have died in what many call their 9/11.
An estimated 30,000 Palestinians, nearly 30% of them children, have died in return.
Over 14,000 civilians have been killed in Ukraine.
In 2023, a record 348 school shootings in the U.S. injured or killed 249 people.
This year, we’re already at 330 more.
And just this week, 40 people died in a fire at a ski resort in Switzerland.
The numbers don’t shock us anymore.
They barely lift an eyebrow.
Until it gets personal.
On New Year’s Day, I got the call we all dread.
Ted Pulver.
We have gone years without speaking. So when his name showed up, I knew.
Three sentences in, he said it:
“I have some bad news.”
I met Guy St. Louis 48 years ago at a business meeting.
He joined my team, but more importantly, he and his wife Tina, and their three boys, became family.
I was there when their first son was born.
For a while, I lived in their home, all eight of us packed into three bedrooms.
We shared the kind of life you only share with people who matter.
We had stories we couldn’t tell most people.
We both should’ve died 20 times. But we didn’t.
Until now.
Guy gave me a lot:
Loyalty. Love. Laughter. Leadership. Listening.
We were different in many ways, but when it came to what mattered, we were the same.
We talked just a week before he passed. About life. His son in prison. Gratitude.
We both knew how lucky we were to have lived so fully.
A week later another call. Stan Callan, soul mates since being freshmen in high school. We drove into Mexico as 16-year-olds and ran home scared to death, went to Bali together, rode our bikes to Sturgis over and over, and even rode them to Cabo for our 50th birthday. I spent 8 days by his bed, the first few chatting away, the last few listening to his labored breathing of the death march. Stan drank too many beers and knew it.
A week later, Mike Cullen, again, soul mates for 50 years. He moved to Idaho to help me build a home and stayed for 25 years as we both built lives. We laughed and cried together, supported each other through hell and highwater. And all of a sudden, he has ALS and is gone.
In January, they became three of the 32,000 or so Americans who passed.
31,997? I didn’t feel.
But those three I felt deep.
And I know every single one of those other deaths…
…was the one to someone else.
Guy’s death wasn’t tragic. It was right.
The kind of ending that fits the life that came before it.
Stan knew his was coming someday.
Mike was healthy and handsome at 71, and we all thought he would live to 100
But so many others?
They’re senseless. Political. Preventable.
We lose children in schools.
Families in bombings.
Strangers in wars built on power and pride.
And most of us move on…
…until one of them is ours.
We could be more present to the reality behind the numbers.
More outraged by the apathy that enables them.
More willing to hold our leaders accountable, as if their children were next in line.
Because maybe they are.
Next time you hear the news say “a dozen dead” or “a thousand buried”…
Pause.
See their faces.
Feel their names.
Let it in, even just a little.
Because the one…
…is everything.
My son died Oct 11, 2025 age 19. Grief hits hard when it is closer to home and yet the world keeps going and I wonder how we can make a difference in the next generation to help stop senseless deaths! Thank you
Sending you love and prayers on the passing of your friends. A brilliant post that reminded me to pause and see the faces of those who are maybe just a headline… thank you x
During covid I binged watched near death experiences. This gave me such peace and now death has a new understanding for me.
Actually there is no death, just a transition to a different form. But I can imagine the hole in your heart.
I’m sorry for your losses Richard. Thank you for sharing this. It hit deep because I’ve lost so many along the way. Currently about to lose another friend to cancer. I appreciate all you do and I’m thankful for you.
Richard, I feel your pain in your words. A timely reminder to let our humanness show in our daily thoughts and actions. Someone needs to feel it now.
Thank you Richard for this thoughtful post. We do gloss over all the deaths around us today. I lost my best friend to ALS. He was at his peak at about 45 yrs old. Then gone in 6 months. I can’t even watch the news because the negativity just sucks you in. It’s a full-time job to stay positive.
I appreciate all your help.
Gordon
I read the news today oh boy
Four thousand holes in Blackburn, Lancashire
And though the holes were rather small
They had to count them all…
Thanks so much RB. I appreciate you and I love you.
Makes me think of the second most important commandment. Something about loving our neighbour as ourselves.
Richard,
So sorry for the loss of your 3 friends. And the reminder to slow down and value life. The life of our loved ones and the lives of those we may never know. Praying for you during this time.
Xoxo
Regina
My heart. It’s broken down to my soul. In the last 6 months I have lost my husband of 31 years, my youngest son, my Mom, and my brother.
Grief is a never ending wave. It just keeps hitting and I am the shore.
I have amazing support. That helps.
My faith is strong and that is what I cling to.
Praying for any and all who are struggling and suffering.
Lord Jesus, come quickly.
Thank you for sharing.
This hits deep Richard, thank you for sharing. I lost 2 of those ~32,000 in January. So yes, each of those are “the one” to someone. Sending hugs. Sometimes this journey is hard, but we get to carry the memories with us for the time we have left.
Thank you for sharing your heart, Richard.
Having experienced much loss in my 65 years of life, including all grandparents, both parents, aunts, uncles, cousins, several friends, and four babies to miscarriage… The ONE for me was my then 24 year-old son Josiah, following an ATV accident. I cannot look at the loss of life in war now with the same attitude that perhaps I once did. Someone’s mother now has a broken heart.
Sending my condolences to you and your families. I am praying for your peace and comfort. Take care and Be well.