This week feels like another quiet breaking point.
The loss of Rob Reiner and Tony Geary, two icons who shaped our coming-of-age years, made it feel as though another chapter of our lives was closing, not loudly, but unmistakably. A reminder that time moves on, whether we’re ready or not.
When Harry Met Sally has been my favorite movie for as long as I can remember. I watch it at least once a year because it makes me feel good. I can quote every line and yet, every time I watch it, I find something new. A moment that hits differently. A truth that lands deeper. That movie gave me hope in love. And in life.
And then there was Luke and Laura.
How many of us grew up racing home from school to watch General Hospital? The drama lived on the screen back then not in our everyday lives. Life felt simpler. Safer. The chaos had boundaries, and when the episode ended, so did the worry.
But this year has been different.
As we’re now processing the loss of these touchstones from our past, we’re also dealing with the senseless tragedy at Brown University. And for those of us in midlife, especially those of us who are mothers, the first thought wasn’t abstract or distant.
It was immediate.
That could have been my child.
That realization lands in a way that’s hard to describe unless you’re living in this season of life when your heart lives partly outside your body, walking across campuses, city streets, and crowded spaces you can’t protect the way you once did.
And if we’re being honest?
This year has been crap.
It has been heavy and ugly and exhausting, and I think many of us are more than ready to see it end. We are tired of bracing ourselves. Tired of bad news. Tired of wondering what’s next.
But here’s the thing about women, especially women in midlife.
We don’t get to opt out.
Not because we’re not tired — we are.
But because too much depends on us.
We have to keep fighting, for ourselves, and for our daughters. For the world we want them to grow up in. For the values we refuse to let slip away. For hope, even when it feels fragile.
