Reflections on Death
- Loredana Denicola
- a few seconds ago
- 5 min read
Updated: May 7
What is loved will never be lost. And what we have truly lived can never die. Franz Werfel
Death, in whatever form it comes, is something that touches us all—yet no one can truly understand it until they experience it personally. It is the great enigma, the final end of every existence, and yet, no matter how much we try to avoid it or push it away, it’s always there—lurking, waiting.
This week, I lost someone dear to me.
In that moment, death took its place in my heart and led me once again to reflect on its nature, on the meaning we assign to it, and on how we live through its arrival.
Sometimes, it comes suddenly, without warning.
When we least expect it, it crashes into us like a blow to the heart, extinguishing life in an instant. In those moments, we are confronted with the raw and unfiltered reality: our world stops, our body freezes, and our mind becomes clouded.
The person who once was—with their smile, their dreams, their emotions, their plans—is no longer here. All that remains is a photo printed on a funeral notice, and it feels strange to see them there, still and silent, surrounded by farewell words. Words that seem to speak of someone you once knew, yet now feel distant, almost unreal.
It is in that moment that you truly realise: they are not coming back. And time, in an instant, changes its face.
The emptiness left behind is so vast that nothing feels the same.
This sudden death, with no apparent reason, forces us to confront our own fragility and helplessness. There are no words that can ease the pain of a loss that comes without warning, and no explanation that can answer the question: why? Unexpected death is a rupture, a clean break that changes everything we thought we knew about life.
But death can also arrive in a different form—slowly, gradually.
It creeps in like a shadow stretching across time, giving us the chance to prepare for its arrival. It is a long, relentless erosion—both physical and emotional.
For some, death is a journey that spans years, marked by physical suffering, psychological strain, deprivation, and waiting. Death, in this form, doesn’t surprise—it becomes a companion, one that walks beside us in the pain of everyday life.
It is a long dying, no less agonising than the sudden kind.
The suffering that accumulates day after day makes us question which face of death is the more merciful: the one that comes unannounced, or the one that walks with us through years of pain?
Perhaps the truth is that neither is easier.
Both carry the weight of loss, of separation.
Over the years, I’ve learned that the only truly meaningful response to death is to live in the present. When someone we love leaves, we realise that what truly matters, in the end, is what we’ve lived and what we can still live.
We cannot stop time. We cannot stop death.
But we can choose to live each day - even if the awareness of its brevity makes us feel vulnerable.
Death teaches us to face the infinite beauty and the impermanence of life.
Sometimes, when life challenges us - when we’re forced to face pain or illness - we long for more: more time, more peace, more love. Yet death demands that we confront what is, not what we wish for.
Life is made of fleeting moments, of instances that slip through our fingers, and death urges us to pause, to appreciate what we have right now, and to live with full awareness of each breath.
Death is not only a looming shadow—it is also a push to live each moment more intensely.
The present, in fact, is the only answer we can give to death. To live it fully, as much as we can, with who we are and what we can offer. Life never guarantees us infinite time. And yet, despite its brevity, we can find meaning in every small gesture, every smile, every word shared.
Death sharpens our awareness of life’s beauty.
And yet, we don’t always know what to say to death.
I’ve met her several times in my life—up close, in the eyes of those about to leave me, or in my most fragile moments. But in those moments, she didn’t take me.
She brushed past me, looked me in the eye, and moved on.
And every time she left, she took with her a part of my innocence—but left behind a deeper awareness: that we are here for an undefined time, and that every moment is a fragile gift.
Death can be a ruthless enemy, tearing away what we love without mercy. But she can also be a silent companion—a presence that makes us reflect, that stays with us in our deepest pains and changes us without saying a word.
Perhaps it’s not our place to judge her.
Perhaps death exists to teach us how to truly live.
At times, she is a quiet companion, bringing a sense of peace, a release from unbearable suffering. When pain becomes too much, death may appear as an escape, a relief. But at other times, she is an invasive shadow, a reminder of our vulnerability.
Death doesn’t ask our permission to arrive - it forces us to confront the impermanence of all we love.
In her approach, we are faced with the mystery of what we once were, what we are now, and what we could become. It is on the border between past and future that death creeps in—never offering final answers. She leaves us with the deepest question: how do we wish to live, knowing that one day, everything will end?
What remains in the end is a heart full of the emotions we’ve lived, the relationships we’ve built, the moments we’ve shared. Death, even as a final point, reminds us to treasure what truly matters, to remember what we have loved and cherished.
Death asks us to place what is essential at the centre of our lives—to pause and reflect on what makes us feel alive, on what, in the end, will walk with us on our journey.
When someone leaves us, it may feel as though an immense void opens in our heart. And yet, that void is also a sign of the depth of the bond we shared. Even in pain, we can find a trace of what once was—a trace that doesn’t vanish, but remains with us.
Death does not erase what has been.
It leaves behind a memory, a photograph, an imprint on our heart that remains alive, even if silent.
Death, in the end, is not just an ending.
It is a lesson, a call to live.
Every day we are given is an opportunity for growth, reflection, and gratitude.
Death reminds us that no matter how short our time may be, what truly matters is how we choose to live it. We cannot escape her—but we can choose not to fear her.
Instead, we can learn to cherish the beauty of every breath, every encounter, every shared moment.
In the end, death is what makes us more alive.
Without her, life would have no meaning.
Reflections on death by Loredana Denicola
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