I received the death news of a close relative today. For a moment I was speechless as the end of life has been the single most mysterious truth for me. It's the ultimate inevitability that makes life so precious. We acquire all the survival skills in the journey of life to meet death one day. It's also the ultimate paradox of life that through death we achieve meaning. We know we will meet death one day which keeps us moving not the contrary. We amass all the wealth, fame, relationships, assets, secrets, knowledge knowing we will take nothing with us one day. The end is what gives us closure on this journey and with closure our narratives gets its meaning. We know people's memories of us will fade fast but I guess the very assurance of being forgotten is what we see as freedom. I find being forgotten as a random life that existed once is not a random feat after all, it's this randomness that wraps our existence with specialty.