When grief strikes, silence fills the room. The phone call, the hospital hallway, the quiet after the funeral—suddenly the world feels stripped of color. In those moments, we do not only mourn; we search. We search for answers, for signs, for reasons why the people we love are taken from us. More than anything, we crave meaning. Without it, the pain feels unbearable. John E. McCarthy, MD, knows this search intimately. In his book St. James Way, he transforms his own loss—the death of his brother Rick at nineteen—into a powerful story that struggles with the strongest questions of life and death. Through George, the novel’s central character, McCarthy shows us how meaning is not simply a comfort in times of loss—it is a lifeline.

Rick’s death, both in real life and in the book, becomes the wound that never fully closes. He was young, strong, musical, full of promise, and suddenly gone. For George, his younger brother in the story, the loss was shattering. The pain was not only emotional but spiritual. He asked the questions we all ask when life feels cruel: What is the point? Is there a God who cares? Or are we forgotten? This is the first reason we crave meaning in times of loss. Without it, grief feels like chaos. It feels like a world without order or love. By searching for meaning, we are not just seeking comfort—we are trying to piece life back together into something that makes sense. St. James Way is filled with moments where George receives glimpses of his brother Rick beyond the grave. These are not just memories or dreams; they carry a clarity and weight that make them feel real. Rick’s presence reassures George that love does not end at death. In one vision, Rick tells him, “I love you, George,” offering a peace that no philosophy or textbook could provide.

McCarthy wants readers to recognize that these encounters, often dismissed as imagination, are deeply meaningful. In the questionnaire, he asks us to reflect on whether we’ve ever had experiences we hesitate to share for fear of being called crazy. Many of us have—dreams, sensations, or sudden feelings that a loved one is near. Such moments matter because they restore meaning. They tell us that death is not the end of the story. Another reason we seek meaning in loss is that grief forces us to confront the fragility of the body. Illness, accidents, aging, and death remind us that the physical self has limits. But McCarthy’s vision is clear: our true essence is spiritual. In both the book and the questionnaire, he affirms that we are spiritual beings who grow through the lessons of earthly life and continue beyond death. George’s encounters with serenity, wisdom, and love in spiritual visions show that the soul rises above what the body cannot endure. Loss then becomes not only about what is gone but about what continues. Meaning lies in realizing that our loved ones are more than their bodies—and so are we.

Loss does not only happen on an individual level. Communities, nations, and even religions grieve in their own ways. McCarthy’s book takes this idea further by crafting fictionalized visions of world leaders like Pope Francis, the Ayatollah of Iran, and even Stephen Hawking. Each is touched by spiritual encounters that reveal the same truth: all humans are connected by the soul. In the questionnaire, McCarthy stresses that our religious identities need not divide us. Wars fought in God’s name betray the very essence of the spiritual. This theme fits powerfully with the search for meaning in loss. When someone we love dies, the barriers of culture, politics, or religion fall away. What matters is love. What matters is connection. In those moments, we glimpse the truth that we are one family—humanity bound not by body or doctrine, but by spirit.

Loss without hope feels unbearable. McCarthy knows this, and his book delivers hope not as a cliché but as a lived reality. George is far from a perfect man—he battles addiction, makes poor choices, and even loses his medical license. Yet it is in his darkest times that hope pierces through. Spiritual encounters, visions of loved ones, and moments of inexplicable peace become reminders that despair is not the final word. Hope is what gives meaning to loss. It does not erase grief, but it transforms it into something bearable, something even beautiful. It allows us to say: Yes, I miss them. Yes, I ache. But I believe their love continues, and one day we will meet again. So why do we crave meaning in times of loss? Because without it, grief feels empty. Meaning reminds us that life has purpose, that our loved ones still matter, and that love itself is eternal. McCarthy’s story, drawn from his personal pain and spiritual insight, shows us that grief is not the end of the journey—it is the opening into a deeper one. The book teaches us three things: our spiritual identity defines who we really are, unity across faiths and differences is possible, and hope is always real. These truths give meaning not only to loss but to life itself.