I’m going to stay away from politics today. Not because there isn’t anything to say – there’s too much to say – and I don’t feel like handing my good mood over to the chaos machine right now.
I realize that in doing this, I’m exercising privilege. The ability to set aside the tragedy and noise of the day for an hour, a day, a week…or longer if I choose. A lot of people don’t get that luxury. I’m fortunate. I know that.
But here’s something that’s been rattling around in my head since I read a post on Twitter (or X…or whatever we’re calling it this week).
The post was simple. A person with two siblings – three kids total – said they had just realized something that had never occurred to them before. One of those siblings will die first and will never attend the funeral of either of the other two. One sibling will attend both funerals but will never have a sibling attend theirs, because they’ll be the last one alive. And the third sibling will attend one funeral and have a sibling attend theirs.
That’s it. That was the post.
And for whatever reason, it stopped me in my tracks.
I’ve thought before about outliving friends and family, especially after conversations with people in their 80s and 90s who talk about loss as just part of the landscape. But I had never thought about it this specifically. Not siblings. Not the math of it.
We had eight kids in my family.
Eight.
Out of those eight, one of us had to be the first to pass away. That person won’t attend a single funeral for their brothers and sisters. One of the eight will be the last one living and will attend every funeral. The rest of us will fall somewhere in between, attending some and being mourned by others.
It’s obvious, of course. Almost embarrassingly so, once you think about it. But I hadn’t. Not really.
And now that I have, I don’t know what to do with the information. I guess I don’t really have to do anything with it.
This isn’t a sad thought, exactly. It’s not uplifting either. It just…is. Like realizing gravity exists even though you’ve been walking your whole life without giving it much thought.
Maybe that’s the point as we start 2026. Not to spiral. Not to make it heavy. Just to notice things. To recognize how temporary and connected we all are and how much of life is happening right now, in the middle, while everyone is still here.
Creating an environment that allows success to happen isn’t always about productivity or goals or fixing the world. Sometimes it’s just about awareness. About treating people a little more gently because, statistically speaking, someone is always closer to their “first” or “last” than we realize.
I don’t know. I’m not trying to land this plane perfectly. I’m just typing into the void and sharing a thought that showed up uninvited and decided to stay for a while.
Weird, huh?
Anyway…here’s to 2026.
Let’s be kind while we’re all still attending each other’s stuff.
MattMunnell.com 