Sacrifice

Young people don’t understand the concept of sacrifice.

It seems simple — you push your friend aside and the train hits you instead; you let your brother escape the room first and you’re the one who the shooter catches. Young people understand prioritization, risk, and love. But not death.

One moment and everything’s gone — nothing after. You never find someone you love and marry them. You never hold your child in your arms. You never watch your mother’s face as she learns that she has a grandchild. You never dance at your friends’ weddings. You never get a job, grow old with your spouse, and die peacefully. Your life is bright, and then it’s over. Your future is nonexistent. You’re done. The end.

It seems selfless — to sacrifice all of that life and give it to someone else. Maybe you’re sacrificing it for a cause, for a group of people.

But there’s so much more.

What about all the differences you could have made? All the people you could have helped? And instead your loss wreaks havoc upon the ones you loved the most. Your mother curls into herself and sobs, a hole wrenched out of her bleeding heart, never to hold that grandchild. Your siblings have nightmares for years, doomed to remember you forever. Family reunions are always awkward. Parents, siblings, cousins, aunts, uncles, grandparents, friends. Random people you greeted in the hallway. They are grief-stricken and lost.

I can understand the metaphor of cutting a string — your life moves continuously…