We’re often removed from what’s inevitable for everybody. In a nuclear family way of growing up—unlike how I grew up where family wasn’t just parents and siblings – cousins, aunts, uncles, grandparents were all woven into our daily world—many younger people are unprepared when loss hits. We had that while growing up and still have that, though even in the “still have that” case, it is based on how much one is investing and maintaining a two-way street—not based on ego or age.
What’s lost is the acquired knowledge that comes from hanging out with elders—gaining decades of experience and wisdom in just a few conversations, creating such rich memories. Why is it that people don’t get the value of this? They don’t know how to handle loss because they’ve rarely witnessed the process of aging and dying up close.# Love Over Maya: What Life Really Teaches About Relationships
When Death Becomes Familiar
When death keeps visiting, something shifts inside you. Each loss affects you differently—some hit deep, others feel more distant. Yet you also become what feels like “insensitive.” It’s not callousness. It’s your mind creating distance so you can function in a world that suddenly feels fragile.
You start seeing patterns, understanding mortality in ways others haven’t experienced yet. It’s like all the old people are ready to take off as the life traffic controller—God—is saying their time is up. There’s exhaustion from grieving, but also from your changing relationship with death itself. You’re gaining hard-earned wisdom about life’s impermanence.
The Modern Isolation from Reality
What makes it more isolating is watching people miss the point about life, death and everything in between—people, family and relationships that matter most. This happens across all groups, ages, societies, cultures and countries, though it becomes starkly clear when death visits. In traditional societies, families lived closely with multiple generations, witnessing the full cycle of life and death. But modern life—whether in America, urban India, or anywhere families have become more nuclear—often removes us from these fundamental realities.
We’re often removed from what’s inevitable for everybody. In a nuclear family way of growing up—unlike how I grew up where family wasn’t just parents and siblings – cousins, aunts, uncles, grandparents were all woven into our daily world—many younger people are unprepared when loss hits. We had that while growing up and still have that, though even in the “still have that” case, it is based on how much one is investing and maintaining a two-way street—not based on ego or age.
They don’t know how to handle it because they’ve rarely witnessed the process of aging and dying up close. Without that exposure, they often haven’t learned to be mentally prepared, to truly value people and relationships while they can, or to stay grounded in what matters while pursuing their ambitions. The younger generation hasn’t made any effort to invest in relationships and build the social support system needed during life’s most difficult times. Aren’t they feeling more lonely and isolated? Ironically, isn’t this their own doing—distancing themselves and creating barriers instead of making any effort?
They think these connections will always be there, waiting in the background. They don’t get that relationships need care from both sides—they’re sleepwalking through their most important connections, insulated from the reality we all face.
The Ego-Driven Disconnect
People get caught up in careers, immediate problems, busy lives, letting foundational relationships drift. They tell themselves there’s more time later—more holidays, calls, chances to connect. But time doesn’t wait, and circumstances change unexpectedly.
People are growing more and more indifferent, like it doesn’t matter whether a person or family member exists or not—how sad is that? And it’s becoming all need-based relationships—not want and care and love and affection based.
People become so consumed by their egos and identities—their titles, earnings, properties. They become so self-absorbed they cannot look, hear or talk beyond themselves. They’re building their whole sense of self around things that mean nothing when death comes calling. It’s weird how people cling to such things and distance themselves, feeling superior, letting their ego drive them and affect everybody around them. They lose people around them until it’s too late to realize what actually mattered.
What We Lose When People Die
When the people who knew you before you became who you are start dying, you lose more than their presence. You lose the living memory of who you were with them—shared jokes only they understood, family shorthand, the way they read your mood across a room. These people held pieces of your story that no one else witnessed. When they die, parts of yourself become unreachable.
The profound sadness isn’t just missing people—it’s missing the version of yourself that existed with them, though it all depends on how close the person was and it’s not the same for everyone. You face the world without people who remember your childhood, who knew your parents when they were young, who understood your family’s way of being. You become the only keeper of shared memories, the last witness to stories that made you.
The Work Relationships Require
This is what people don’t grasp until it’s too late: maintaining connections takes work. You have to show up, check in, make effort when it’s inconvenient. You need to invest time and care to build and nurture relationships, invest time with people because you want them, not for a need. Investing time is the best thing one can give—it beats any materialism. That two-way street has to be built while there’s time. By the time people figure out what they’ve lost, the chance is gone.
I notice that when death arrives, the immediate next of kin are in a very vulnerable situation and are in a state of shock, looking for people around them for comfort. They need somebody of their own—who gets them and understands and knows what to do and gives comfort in those situations, a shoulder to cry and grieve. But if we distance ourselves and behave indifferently while going through life, who will be there when that time arrives?
The Soul’s True Nature
Why is it that people can’t and won’t learn to love and share and show affection and bring closeness and be kind instead of being cold and distant? The answer might lie in understanding that there is grace and love and affection in vulnerability, but people hide behind ego and facades, afraid to live a genuine and authentic life.
That’s where distances and misunderstandings arise from lack of communication, and their “identities” take over—losing sight of the essence: that the soul, an amsha of God, is pure love and affection. Within each being that soul exists, guiding and speaking to each of us. But we fill ourselves with worldly noise and can’t hear the signal. This worldly noise—the maya of material success and ego—distracts us from truth.
What do we take with us other than memories? Why can’t people think about what others would say about them when they die—what legacy of themselves do they leave? If they would just think in reverse and behave accordingly, they could set themselves right and help the people around them too.
Death reminds us that everything we cling to and establish our identity around is just impermanent. We accumulate punya or papam through our actions and relationships, and ultimately hope for moksha or sadgathi. And that’s exactly the point, isn’t it—salvation through actions and being that enable your soul to not be reborn, to have no attachments, while still living in society to thrive and learn.
Caring for family and showing love to others is itself our dharma, our spiritual duty, part of the path that creates good karma and moves us toward liberation. But it’s not just family—every being, everything has a soul that needs and wants first and foremost love and care and affection. Yet performing rituals and spending money on poojas and devotional show-offs and pilgrimage trips, in my opinion, does not get you any closer to God or liberation when one doesn’t get this basic truth about atman and the nature of being.
Living for Legacy
What legacy are you creating? What model are you showing? How are you demonstrating character, integrity, and honesty? The next generation is watching—what values, principles, emotions, and feelings are you passing on to children? What will they remember about how you treated people, how you loved, how you lived?
These things show you the impermanence of life—that we need to be grounded and humble, think spiritually, give more love and affection, be kind. Most people live like they’re exempt from this reality, treating family bonds like permanent fixtures instead of precious, fragile things. They don’t realize every relationship only exists in the moments we choose to nurture it.
The Path Forward
In a world of shifting priorities—for all generations—all this has to be the anchor to ground us and get us back to the reality of life. The reality is simple, though many of us already know this but don’t put it into words: we need to invest in relationships intentionally, be with people because we want them, not need them. Maintain those two-way streets, show up even when it’s inconvenient. Choose vulnerability over ego, be authentic instead of hiding behind facades.
Everything we cling to is temporary. The worldly noise drowns out the soul’s guidance. Caring for others is spiritual practice. Every being needs love and affection. These aren’t lectures—they’re just facts that become clear when you’ve lived through enough loss.
Through yoga and meditation, you can cultivate the stillness to hear beyond the noise. These practices help distinguish between ego’s demands and heart’s wisdom, teaching you to be present with others without attachment to outcomes. It’s about living with engaged detachment—fully participating in relationships while practicing love as the path to liberation.
Understanding this doesn’t make losses hurt less, but it clarifies what matters. It shows how important it is to show up for people still here, to tend relationships while there’s time. Our connections aren’t just additions to life—they’re the foundation of who we are, the living links to our past and bridges to whatever future we might build.