A dear old friend just lost his son, a young man at the beginning of his adult life.
We say we can't imagine, but for those who have grappled with loss, we cry out from its belly, the darkness a black hole where no lights escapes. We cry out and ask why; maybe we blame ourselves, or we blame others, or we blame God, or we blame the abysmal soul-eating creature. Or we blame all of the above in vicious cycles that eventually unravel into some semblance of acceptance, a modicum of peace.
We say we can't imagine, but what else should we say? That we can and do imagine and this tragedy has reminded us it can happen to any of us, and that's why we're so sorry for their loss? Each death has its own context, but the resulting loss is the constant. It never varies other than the degree of painful remembrance and sorrow, but healing reconciliation is always in the long-tail of beloved memory.
That's why it's the very collective outcry of sympathy, empathy, and the outreach of those family and friends within reach that can and does help ease the pain, whether the loss be a child, a parent, a spouse or a friend.
I say can't imagine, but I can, and I embrace the scripture my friend shared with us online:
"Out of the depths I cry to You Lord; Lord hear my voice. Let Your ears be attentive to my cry for mercy. I wait for the Lord, my whole being waits, and in His word I put my hope. Put your hope in the Lord, for with the Lord is unfailing love and with Him is full redemption." --Psalm 130
God bless you and your family, my friend. Our hearts ache and our unfathomable love abounds.