I don’t understand why people who believe in an afterlife mourn or fear death. What does a 70-year, 70-day, 70-second lifespan mean when compared to forever?
I went to a cemetery two days ago and the marble from just 200 years ago had, by weather, been sandblasted, rendering anonymity to those lying beneath. And the flowers on the graves of the recent dead mocked the empty graves, but stronger still, mocked our hopeless, desperate grasps at permanence.