I suppose not a single one of us knows which droplet of dew will be the one that breaks the strength of the web.
I suppose not a single one of us knows what to say to the spider who loses an exquisitely woven web, especially if it looked to us to be a young and carefree web.
There's no explaining the whims of nature and gravity, at least not to the spider. The situation simply is what it is.
And, yet, somehow, we long to explain. We long to comfort and to sooth. We yearn to say something that will reinforce the strength of the spider or its web, or even both.
I know of a parent who lost a teenage daughter today.
No one ever expects the droplets of life to pull down one so young.