A Gentle Relationship with Death
27 September 2025
Take a breath. Hold it for four seconds. Then release. That simple act is the most fundamental sign of life. Without it, you would cease to exist. Life begins with breath—and with your last, Death arrives to meet you. If you’re reading this and struggle with thanatophobia, I feel deeply for you. Still, I hope what follows offers a sense of peace, and perhaps a chance to see Death in a new light.
I was surrounded by Death from an early age. A close friend from my childhood fell prey to a treacherous villain—cancer. I was about ten or eleven when my elementary school made the announcement over the loudspeakers. For about five minutes, the entire building stood in stillness for her. The gesture was beautiful, but it wasn’t nearly long enough. I still recall her funeral vividly: sitting with my parents in the church I grew up in, the air so heavy and quiet. A sniffle here, a distant gentle cry there.
My world changed that day. I began to question God, though I never shared this with anyone. How could He take such an innocent? She had so much to live for and a beautiful family who loved her endlessly. I was angry for a long time, but I never let it show.
My relationship with Death began there—just a child trying to understand. For most of my life, I feared that final breath—not what comes after, but when and how it happens. Growing up in the church, I wasn’t worried about where I’d go once I died; either up or down, and at the time, I left that part up to God. But when I eventually extricated myself from Catholicism, a new discomfort settled in. The question of where I might end up after my last breath completely changed.
Suddenly, there was no Heaven. And if there was no Heaven, then perhaps no Hell. So what, then? The simple answer: no one knows for sure. My own answer is still evolving, but I find myself leaning toward either reincarnation or a peaceful ‘mental paradise’ of sorts. Viewing life as more than one shot began to appeal to me, and over time I became more comfortable thinking about where I’ll go once I meet Death. With that growing interest in reincarnation came thoughts about where I might have come from, too. Surely one of my past lives was an 18th-century poet from the British Isles—though, I don’t mean to sound pretentious.
I’m not sure it’s spiritually possible to exist only once. I’ve sat with that for a long time and, in doing so, came to love the idea.
I’ve always been a bit apprehensive about the when and how of dying. But through a quote by Gandalf the White, I learned to approach Death with neutrality: “End? No, the journey doesn’t end here. Death is just another path, one that we all must take” (The Return of the King, 2:44:02–2:44:16). When I first heard Gandalf say this, I paused the movie and started reassessing my understanding of Death. I began to respect it as part of the life cycle, a biological function. I realized I don’t have to fear something so intrinsic and inevitable. No matter how or when my death comes, it’s an essential part of existence—not an abrupt void, but a continuation. And regardless of the manner of death—whether painful, tragic, or unexpected—there is still a path forward.
I don’t claim to have all the answers. This is merely my gentle relationship with Death. I hope you’ve taken something from it, and if you haven’t, I hope you at least found some comfort in reading. And yet, comfort doesn’t mean the absence of grief. Even as I’ve learned to respect Death, I still mourn the people I’ve loved and lost. Being human is more than a set of biological functions; it’s to feel, to be afraid, to love, to bereave, and to persevere—to keep moving forward.
By approaching this part of life with both reverence and apprehension, I’ve found inner harmony. It reminds me that when my own time comes, I need not resist. Because one day, I will take my last breath—and when I do, I hope to meet Death the same way I met life: with curiosity, not fear.
References
The Return of the King. Directed by Peter Jackson. New Line Cinema, WingNut Films, & Saul Zaentz
Film Co, 2003.