I have always had an uneasy relationship with death.
Growing up in a warring state, and then spending most of my twenties in death anxiety, taught me the things we cherish most are the things death chases most.
If you had asked me a few years ago what makes life meaningful, I would have told you: To marry the love of your life, nurture your kids together, and do the work that fulfils you.
None of those values has changed. Though for a long time I always saw death as an enemy of those things. However, I have started to see that death doesn’t necessarily threaten a meaningful life. It makes it.
This piece is me reflecting on what death gives to life. And what we risk losing if, one day, we avoid dying.
Nobody Wants to Die
Like most children raised in Christian homes, I grew up with a particular lesson: Obey God. Do good. Live right. And when you die, heaven awaits you.
For a long while, I ran with that. Many of those lessons shaped the man I am today. But the older I get, and the further I move from religion, I notice something beneath the surface of the debate. Something that has nothing to do with whether God exists or not.
And that is that almost all of us want life to continue, with no end.
Even those promised ‘eternal life’ still pray against ‘untimely’ death. The word “death” makes them shiver. At the mere mention of it, you hear them push back sharply, “God forbid.” “It is not my portion.”, “I reject it”.
And when death arrives, when someone we love is gone forever, we don’t accept it. Those who believe in God might put him on the stand, demanding answers. Those who don’t might throw blame at the dead: “Why did he do this?” “Why did she go there?” they lament. Some call it unfair. Some go as far as telling tales of reincarnation, purgatory, and paradise to avoid confronting the reality, the finality of death. Others just sit there numb, stunned that the world keeps moving.
What If We Become Immortal?
Say scientists succeed with cryonics: Our bodies frozen at death, waiting for when medicinal advancements uncover a cure for death. Or imagine a world where death is simply a choice. Where our consciousness can be copied and transferred into a new body whenever the old one wears out. Like in the movie Altered Carbon.
It sounds like the greatest gift imaginable. More time with the people we love. More chances to do the work we care about. More ordinary days to enjoy.
But think it through.
Most things we value get their meaning from the fact that they end. We treasure things that are finite. Scarcity is what makes things desired at all. Reduce the supply of anything, and the price goes up. Limit the time and people put more effort into savouring each moment.
If there is always tomorrow, nothing is urgent today. If we have infinite chances to commit to someone or something, we will keep choosing later. And later is a word that dilutes everything.
How Death Makes Life Meaningful
My nephew is two. Tender, cheerful, and always in motion. We spend a lot of time together. Some days I enjoy his company. Other days, I wish to escape him.
He loves music. Dances to some of it. He holds the phone while the music plays, carrying it as if it belongs to him.
The other day, I was in the other room reading when he walked in, made that baby sound, and reached for my hand. He pulled it gently. I followed.
He pointed at the mattress. The music was still playing, but the phone was hidden under the bedsheet. He could not find it. So he came to find me.
I searched. A few seconds later, I found it. I handed it to him. He smiled and made that sound again, but this time it felt like happiness.
I did nothing remarkable. I only found a phone under a bedsheet. But something about his smile made me stop and be fully there with him. And not thinking about anything.
Right there, somewhere, in me, I felt the awe. I know he won’t always be two. Someday he will be 32, and I might be 62, or gone entirely.
That is the whole reason the moment felt astonishing.
Death makes life meaningful — by making every moment a “one-time view”.
Several Thinkers Across Time and Culture Have Also Felt This Way About Death
Nearly two thousand years ago, Seneca wrote: “It is not that we have a short time to live, but that we waste a great deal of it.” This wasn’t him mourning the shortness of life. Rather, he was challenging us to be intentional about what we do with the fleeting time we have.
Charles Bukowski arrived at the same thought, just with less patience and more crudeness: “We’re all going to die,” he said. “All of us, what a circus! That alone should make us love each other but it doesn’t. We are terrorised and flattened by trivialities, we are eaten up by nothing.”
Bronnie Ware, an Australian palliative care nurse, author, and songwriter, spent years working in palliative care. When she asked dying people what they regretted most, they rarely mentioned the business that failed or the promotion they never got. Usually, it was the mundane moments; like the conversations they kept postponing, people they stayed angry at or children they watched grow up from the office.
Then there is Kafka, writing to his beloved Milena:
“I wish the world were ending tomorrow. Then I could take the next train, arrive at your doorstep in Vienna, and say: Come with me, Milena. We are going to love each other without scruples or fear or restraint. Because the world is ending tomorrow. Perhaps we don’t love unreasonably because we think we have time. But what if we don’t have time? Ah, if only the world were ending tomorrow. We could help each other very much.”
Across centuries, a Roman philosopher, an American poet, an Australian palliative care nurse, and a Czech novelist writing love letters from Vienna all arrived at the same place: the end is not the enemy of meaning, but where meaning begins.
Conclusion: Remember We Shall Die — So Live
Let’s not spend our days anxious about death. I’ve done it. It doesn’t help. Not in the slightest.
Instead, let’s treat it as a reminder that the things that matter to us matter precisely because they don’t last. The people we love, the activities that move us, the moments we return to in memory, all of them matter because they will not always be here.
So kiss your favourite person like the number of times you can do that is countable, because it is. Be fully present when the music is playing, when the movie is on, when the thing you love is happening, because one day it won’t be.
We are all leaving. We just don’t know when. And maybe that uncertainty is enough to make today worth living fully.
As the Stoics say, “Memento mori”—remember that you will die. So live.
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If this resonated with you, pass it on. Someone else might need to read it today.
Below are some other posts you might like:
- 3 Liberating Lessons From Overcoming Death Anxiety: How to Live Despite Fear And Uncertainty
- Living an Absurd Life: How Do One Find Meaning in a Meaningless Existence?
- Spirituality: A Path To Becoming Your Best Self [And The Role of Religion
- Death Anxiety In 20s: Why You Shouldn’t Fear Death, And How To Cure Thanatophobia.
- 60 Big And Small Things To Be Grateful For Every Day [Even When Things Are Tough]
David Ifeanyi is a mindful SEO content writer, photographer, and photo retoucher with over 3 years of experience.
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