Not a number.
A collection of stories that ended too soon.
Families broken. Futures stolen. Names we should never forget.
A father who whispered, âI love you,â as the water rose around him.
Two little sisters found holding hands â even in death, they stayed together….
A camp counselor who didnât run, but stayed behind to save others.
Eight-year-old children who went to bed giggling and never woke up.
Mothers, teachers, neighbors⌠gone in a matter of moments.
đ They didnât get a warning.
They didnât get a second chance.
And neither did the ones who loved them.
So what would you do differentlyâŚ
if today was your last ordinary day?
Would you still scroll past your partnerâs words?
Still leave that apology unsaid?
Still hold back the âI love youâ youâve been meaning to say?
Because life doesnât come with guarantees.
There are no promises.
No extra time.
One text. One hug. One moment.
Sometimes thatâs all you get.
Last night, a mother waited for her daughter’s call.
She picked up the phone.
But all she heard was silence.
So tonight, if youâre lucky enough to sit beside someone you love â
Hold them closer.
Say the words. Forgive. Laugh. Cry.
Let them know they matter.
Because in the end, love is all we really have â
and regret is too heavy to carry.
đ To the families grieving tonight,
We send you our hearts.
May healing come.
May the world not forget.
And may we all live a little more kindly â for those who no longer can.
