A lot of people want to live forever. Of course no one wants to die, few people want to see what’s on the other side of the veil just yet, they want a few more days, a few more hours, a few more minutes at best. But each and every one of us is headed for that darkness that we hope leads somewhere else, somewhere better, or just somewhere different.
We want to know that our lives mattered, that we left behind something that will continue to mark our legacy and allow us to be remembered in a way that some might not recall, but will know deep down is a mark of us, of something that was here in this world and wasn’t just some forgotten fantasy that came and went without anyone noticing the passage of a life.
We die twice in this life.
The first is when the last breath leaves our body, the last vestige of what we call actual, biological ‘life’. Once that happens we’re nothing more than an empty shell, a case that’s lost its purpose.
The second time however is the worst, and the most telling time that occurs when the last person we know speaks our name for the last time. After that, we become a memory, and after that, little more than another soul passing through history. We hope that we’ll leave our mark, that others will remember us, and that our name will be spoken throughout the rest of history.
We hope we’ll be remembered, so we’ll be immortal in some way.