What if you are the last person to touch someone before they die?
Imagine it quietly. A cashier places a receipt in your hand. Your fingers meet for a brief moment. A coworker brushes past in the hallway, their shoulder grazing yours. A neighbor nods as you pass on the sidewalk. A stranger holds the door, and your eyes meet as you step through. Each of these ordinary moments carries more weight than it seems.
Every interaction becomes part of the larger movement of life. People move through their days carrying memories, hopes, griefs, fatigue, and small joys. What we witness in others is only a fraction of the story they carry. A glance, a tone, or a small gesture reaches deeper than we realize.
Every person carries a universe within them. A calm word, a gentle gesture, or simple recognition can leave a trace. These moments coexist naturally with fatigue, distraction, and the ordinary weight of daily life.
Endings are the essence of life. They are a necissity to its cycle. Sometimes these endings arrive and hit deeply. Like the loss of your best friend, your grandmother, your husband. Often, we don’t even notice that a hand passing a receipt was the hand of someone who has experienced loss too. What feels routine can hold hidden weight. Life is fleeting, and the intersections we inhabit with others, brief as they may be, carry significance.
Your presence shapes how someone experiences the world. Each small exchange contributes something, whether it feels energetic or subdued. Words, gestures, tone, and attention form a pattern that extends beyond the moment itself. A brief interaction can echo softly in someone’s memory of what life feels like.
Perhaps the question is not how to become better, kinder, or more present.
Perhaps the question is whether we notice what is already there.
The richness of the moment.
The sweetness of the soul standing in front of us.
The quiet miracle of another human life unfolding beside our own.
We walk past so much tenderness every day. We stroll past people carrying entire lifetimes inside them. We pass faces shaped by love, loss, longing, humor, endurance. We cross paths with people who once dreamed wildly, who were once adored deeply, who still carry beauty and potential even if the world has stopped reflecting it back to them.
So many souls feel invisible. Older bodies. Tired bodies. Worn spirits. People who have learned to shrink because attention became rare. People who have been passed by so often that they stop expecting to be met at all.
And yet, they are still here.
Still full of story.
Still full of meaning.
Still full of something precious.
When we pause long enough to really see someone, even briefly, something sacred happens. A human being feels reflected back to themselves. They feel real. They feel held in the world for a moment. That recognition carries a sweetness that words cannot fully describe.
To be seen is to be affirmed. To be noticed is to be loved, even in the smallest way. Every person deserves that, simply because they exist.
There is such beauty in the ordinary crossings of lives. The cashier. The neighbor. The person sitting alone. The one whose presence blends into the background. Each carries potential, history, and quiet wonder. Each deserves to be regarded with warmth rather than indifference.
We are surrounded by living poetry, and we often hurry past it.
Maybe the invitation is this. To slow just enough to feel the sweetness of the moment. To let our eyes soften. To allow ourselves to register the humanity in front of us. To recognize that every soul we encounter is more than what we see in passing.
Presence matters.
Presence is the space where connection grows. Presence matters because everyone carries a universe inside them. Everyone longs to be noticed. Everyone deserves the quiet acknowledgment that says, You are here. You are seen. You are real.
And when we practice presence, even in small moments, we participate in the beauty of life itself. We honor what is fleeting. We witness what is sacred. We become part of the tapestry of souls who have felt themselves recognized, if only for a moment.
Presence matters.
It is the simplest, most profound gift we can offer. And that can change the world.