Maybe Iam morbid to be speaking about this, but I think that life is too short. In it is the truth of the statement, however you would like to interpret it, but that is something that I would not pretend to believe, for it is a living working reality. It exposes ourselves to the raw truth in death, something I should think no sane being would like to contemplate. But despite us attempting to shield ourselves from the ugly truth, time and again it rears it ugly head at us, threatening to disrupt the stability of life.
Of course we moan. We moan the death of a loved one, the death of a friend, the death of a mentor, and even sympathise with the death of a stranger. Something I've learnt recently, and that's: For the victim's family members, it is an emotional turmoil, for the victim, it is a peace, a calamity. People are paid to moan and weep at a funeral procession. But behind the black veils and the faces striken with grief of those who come to help piece together the hole left in the heart of the family members, one cannot help thinking that it is, with a stroke of luck, their fate not to be burdened with a similar circumstance.

Phrases, cliche as they seem: 'Till death do us part', tell us one thing- death is an ending, but the beginning of a journey to heaven. Speaking of which, if Adam and Eve never sinned, would we, as decendants, be bounded to the same fate? I don't think we'll ever know for sure.