The loss of a friend is like that of a limb; time may heal the

Hear the solemn words of Robert Southey, poet and historian, who declared: “The loss of a friend is like that of a limb; time may heal the anguish of the wound, but the loss cannot be repaired.” Within these words lies a truth as old as human sorrow, spoken with the gravity of one who had looked upon grief and measured its weight. For friendship is not a mere ornament to life, but a part of our very being. To lose a true friend is to lose a piece of oneself, something irreplaceable, something that leaves the soul forever changed.

The meaning of this saying lies in the nature of friendship. A friend is not simply a companion of convenience, but a limb of the heart—joined to us in loyalty, trust, and shared memory. Just as the body is crippled when a limb is cut away, so too is the spirit wounded when a friend departs through death or separation. Time may soften the pain, as the body learns to move again after injury, but the absence remains. No substitute can fill the void, for each friendship is unique, woven with threads no other hand can spin.

Consider the tale of Cicero, the Roman orator, who grieved bitterly at the death of his beloved daughter, Tullia, and later for the deaths of dear companions. Though he sought philosophy as solace, he confessed that the void remained. His sorrow became the teacher of his pen, producing works that still instruct the world—but within them is the unspoken truth that his wound never closed. As Southey declares, anguish may fade into resignation, but the loss cannot be repaired.

History too recalls the lament of Alexander the Great, who, upon the death of his closest friend, Hephaestion, was stricken with inconsolable grief. He dressed as a mourner, refused food, and ordered temples closed. Though the conqueror of nations, he was powerless against the death of one he loved as his own soul. His empire stretched across the known world, yet to him, it was a kingdom diminished, for the limb of friendship was gone. His mourning illustrates the truth Southey names: wounds of friendship never fully heal.

This saying also warns us against presumption. Too often, we imagine that time itself can cure all wounds. Yet Southey reminds us that while time may dull the sharpness of grief, it cannot restore what has been lost. Healing is not the same as wholeness. The wound becomes part of us; we carry it forward, learning to live differently, but always remembering what was severed. This is not despair, but the sobering recognition of the depth of human bonds.

The lesson here is profound: value your friends while they live, for they are not mere acquaintances but living limbs of your soul. Do not take them for granted, nor treat lightly the gift of their companionship. Cherish their presence, honor their trust, and weave memories strong and true. For when the day comes that they are gone—and it will surely come—you will feel their absence as a body feels the loss of a limb. Let your gratitude today spare you from regret tomorrow.

So, children of tomorrow, remember Southey’s wisdom: to lose a friend is to lose part of yourself. Do not waste the time given to you in neglect or bitterness. Seek reconciliation quickly, speak kindness often, and walk together in loyalty and love. For though time may soften the anguish of parting, the loss cannot be repaired. And in knowing this, you will live more tenderly, more faithfully, and more gratefully with the precious companions who walk beside you now.