Science Fiction

Death Is Not The End

This is a piece I wrote years ago, after my mother's death.

Death is not the end.

Nor is it the beginning of another life. Nor is it a transition into some other mythical destination, heaven or otherwise. It is, though, always there, always will be – without change.

We know the Universe can exist without divine intervention. A place where particles are formed and precipitated without the help of a cosmic finger stirring the great pot of life.

But because God is not included in the order of existence, does not mean our deaths have no meaning.

We do not blink out of existence. We do not cease. We do not become angels. We do not go into that good night, gently or otherwise.

On the contrary, it means so much more. And where one might think that there is a certain sadness or lack of destiny in the modern age, another recognizes death as the beautiful Truth that it is. What it really is. That without death, our Universe would not be. It is the sole integrating factor of our very fiber of being.

About 13.8 billion years ago, the Universe was more than a thousand times smaller than a single pixel on your screen. We all (and everything around us) existed in this infinitesimally small space. Every piece of you, every piece of every person, every piece of every man, woman, or thing was already there, in that tiny point. A singularity.

We are and always will be in existence.

We are alive today because that is the order the Universe has put us in. But we have always been here. And we will always be here. Death does not change us. Death only finishes what we have begun. We rejoin the Universe.

Our loved ones are always with us.

Not in the classically religious, spiritually lifted, from the heavens type of way. In the way that we never really cease to exist. We were always in existence, in a sense. We always will be in existence too. We are infinitely part of something infinitely bigger. Interwoven into the very nature of something greater.

We are always.

We are the air. We are the oceans. We are the mountains and the sky.
We are the trees in the evergreen forest. We are the metals in our phones. We are the birds flying through the air.
We are the dogs and cats in our homes. We are rivers cutting canyons in the Earth. We are lava burning hot. We are blind fish swimming in the deep.
We are our pets. We are our friends. We are the strangers passing on the street.
We are the worms wiggling after a morning rain. We are the rain that fell the night before.
We are Saturn. We are Jupiter. We are Pluto, the planet no longer a planet.
We are the burning gases in our sun and the stars shining so bright.
We are the meteors. We are the cosmos spinning inward and outward, all at once.

We are.
We are.
We are.

A Universe all in our own – without a beginning and without an end.

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  1. With respect, “we” are not any of those things. Whatever we are, it’s inextricable linked to consciousness and our experience of it. Change is a fundamental part of the universe. A cake may have matter in it that was once a star, but it is quite obviously not a star: it’s a cake now. Similarly particles that were once part us are no longer “us” after we die.

    I don’t mean this as an attack, or to be cruel. It’s hard to deal with, but in a purely naturalistic universe there is no hope in the idea of our being recycled after death, because our consciousness- fundamentally “us”- is still destroyed in death.

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