It's something that is going to happen to all of us in many different ways - Orlando, loved ones, ourselves - but we always abstract it, and deflect, and anonymize it.

I couldn't help but notice in a transition of your piece from Mark's death to your experience with loss as you've aged that you shifted from first person to second. I've found in my time with counseling it serves only to distance ourselves from experiencing our own story on a deeper level by deflecting it onto "you" or someone else. Usually, the next line is "What happens if the 'you's are replaced with 'I's." to see how it feels when 'owning' the words.

I guess that's my input of making small shifts in talking about death in America, because I think you're right. Talking about death and loss isn't something we delve on here. But we should, for exactly this:

People just ... die.

And they usually die in a cold room, surrounded by frantic people and blinding white lights. And alone.

And that's just sad.

Phooey.

And this:

It should mean something when someone dies.

EDIT:

As an odd aside/duality -

And they usually die in a cold room, surrounded by frantic people and blinding white lights. And alone.

This is how we are usually born, the difference being surrounded with people, then placed in the arms of our parents. And now the stark reality of the two is making me tear up. :/