Death is a peculiar thing. Many imagine it as an absence. Others as an abrupt end to perception. Some imagine a world beyond, of rolling hills or golden gates, of a solemn river or smouldering abyss. But all of these are a far too human conception of death. Yet, none of these are nearly human enough.

Death is the feeling of tears in dozens of eyes, sprouting in irregular intervals, matched to the sound of irregular sobs. Death is the feeling of a hug from both sides, repeated over and over with varying intensity. Death is the smell of the church where they hold your service, from more perspectives than you can count, and the sound of so many choked out final farewells heard through just as many ears. Death is dozens of conversations, about you and about nothing at all, yet still wrapped up in the idea of you. Death is the taste of the cake you insisted be present, and the half stifled snickers of “Yeah… Yeah that’s good cake.” repeated each time a guest tries it for the first time.

Death is the high school friends, who wish they’d been brought back together under better circumstances, sharing stories of when you were young. Death is your mother, sobbing into your aunt's shoulder as she laments that you went first. Then death is the drives home to dozens of different houses, and dozens of different beds, and as they fall asleep, death is losing track of some of those perspectives for the last time.

And for a time, death is a daily dance from one life to another, from one person to the next, and often, to many at once. Slowly, the steps grow longer between, and the warm dark obfuscates how long it’s been. But time and time again you find yourself drawn forward.

Death is a discord call on friday night, where your username still rests in the offline section. Death is a meet-up among friends who wish you could have been there, sharing stories of how you touched their lives. Death is a crying teen clutching their plushie as they read something you wrote years before. Death is a gentle sleep dotted with the million ways in which you’ve touched the lives of those who yet still live.

So to those who yet still live: Live well, for you are death to the millions that have touched your life, and when you die, know that those that yet still live shall show you a death worth living.