I recently attended a funeral. There is nothing quite like standing in the cool stillness of a cemetery, watching a casket being tenderly lowered into the earth. Then comes the sound of dirt landing on the lid. A series of soft, hollow, dreadful thuds. It's strange how something so gentle feels like a punch to the chest.

There’s no escaping the finality in that sound. No polite euphemisms. No “passing on” or “resting peacefully.” Just a body in a box, in the ground, returning to the earth it came from. In that moment, all the fluff falls away. Death is real. It’s not a metaphor or a transition. It’s an ending.

And yet, as humans, we’re so good at pretending it’s not. We cling to stories of an afterlife—heaven, reincarnation, ghosts, spirits watching over us—because it’s comforting. Because the idea of not existing is terrifying. But if we’re honest, those beliefs often come from fear, not evidence. Most of us don’t remember a single thing from before we were born. So why should it be so hard to accept that death is simply the other bookend?

Here’s the thing: realizing there’s no grand encore doesn’t have to feel bleak. It can be incredibly freeing.

Knowing this life is all we get makes it more precious, not less. It pushes us to pay attention—to see the people we love, make memories instead of excuses, and stop saving the good dishes for "some day." Because some day may never come.

Perhaps that's the gift of being human. We get to write our own meaning, instead of waiting for one to be handed to us. We get to be here, now, in all its messy, beautiful, ridiculous glory.

When we stop pretending we have forever, we start living like time matters. Like moments matter.

Yes, the casket was lowered. The dirt was shovelled. And someone I cared about is gone.

But walking away from that graveside, I wasn’t weighed down by despair. I was filled with this quiet determination—not to waste what I’ve been given. Not to numb myself with “next time” or “later.” Because if this is all there is, then this—right here, right now—is everything.

Additional articles by Andrew