Don’t worry — this post will not attempt to be an in-depth account of complex philosophies or abstract worldviews. That search I leave to you, if that is something you wish to pursue.
Instead, I hope that what I share here might plant a small seed in your mind, something you can sit with for a while.
So, the concept of eternal life. Is it something you would want if it were possible?
Would your answer change if you were also immortal?
An Eternal Life Together
Many people answer that question with: “Yes — if my family and friends could live forever or become immortal too, just like me.”
I imagine your loved ones would say the same about their own friends and families. And so on, and so on. Soon, almost the entire population of Earth would be living eternal, immortal lives.
Would that really be so bad if nearly everyone could live forever?
A Day Without Night
Many people answer that question with: “Yes — if my family and friends could live forever or become immortal too, just like me.”
Yes? Do you think it would taste just as good after a week? A month? A year?
Or does it taste extra good precisely because it’s something you can’t have every day, for one reason or another, before your wish came true?
Christmas decorations could be another example.
Many people long for Christmas months in advance, and when it finally becomes time to bring out the decorations, the whole body tingles with joy. Colorful lights brighten the darkness, and beautiful ornaments break the feeling of everyday sameness.
Would it feel just as special if the decorations stayed up all year?
When celebration becomes ordinary life, does it lose some of its magic?
I thrive during the darker part of the year and have long felt a bit envious of those who live north of the Arctic Circle and experience darkness around the clock during winter.
The biggest obstacle to moving from where I live now, a short distance north of Stockholm, is that I wouldn’t be able to handle constant daylight during summer.
My days need a night — even if that night becomes a little shorter during the summer months.
The Value of the Temporary
If you’re still reading, you may sense that we are approaching the heart of this post: how death makes us more alive. Does that sound contradictory? Let me explain how I see it.
A long life does not always mean a good life.
Precisely because I know that everything will end one day, I want to live while I am alive. “Every day counts,” and all of that.
Not every day is filled with overflowing joy or exciting new experiences — far from it. But I feel that I’m getting better at noticing and appreciating the small moments, even in ordinary life.
To others, they may seem insignificant, but what matters is how I experience them. After all, I am the only one who can live my life.
Life, life, life…
Time to talk about death and misery.
Which is also to talk about life.
Farewell Requires Courage
Earlier, I asked whether you would want eternal life and immortality — a question many people answer “yes” to, provided their loved ones share the same fate.
What I didn’t ask was: Why?
“Because I don’t want to die.”
“Because I don’t want to leave my children.”
“Because I don’t want to lose my friends.”
Was that your answer too?
There is nothing strange about responding that way. Of course we want to protect both ourselves and the people we love from the farewells, losses, and grief that death brings.
But my counter-question is this: would we feel as strongly, love as deeply, if we knew we had nothing to lose? When nothing is at stake, does the investment lose its meaning and purpose?
As the heading says — farewell requires courage.
It takes courage to open your heart to someone when you know there is a risk they may one day disappear from your life. Grief is the price we pay for love.
Those of us who have had the joy of sharing life with an animal know this too. Choosing to welcome a new companion into the family comes with thousands of days of unconditional love — and one day of the deepest sorrow. Farewell requires courage.
Death Gives Me Joy for Life
Some of my favorite characters in games, books, and TV series possess some form of immortality or eternal existence. Some people might envy them, but I only feel more grateful that my own life is limited. What happens after death will reveal itself in time.
Reading and writing about death reminds me that I am alive — contradictory as that may sound. Even the painful parts of death are often proof of deep love and care, emotions that might not have held the same depth if we never had to say goodbye.
No matter how much I suffer during the hottest days of summer, I would never want autumn all year round, no matter how much I love that season. Part of its charm lies in the fact that it only visits briefly each year, reminding us to enjoy it while it lasts.
I try to do the same with life — to savor the beautiful moments, even the small ones.
There it is again: you cannot talk about death without talking about life.
Would you want to live forever or become immortal? Why or why not?
A short story with Quinley & Herrow
Who are Quinley and Herrow?
In Coffinfolk Café’s stand alone short stories, you’ll meet two most unlikely friends:
Quinley – Coffinfolk’s café host. A young woman who loves life just as much as she loves exploring the cultural heritage of death and sharing advice, information, and insights that can help people – whether they are facing their own encounter with Death or living with grief.
Herrow – Death himself. He may look frightening in his black cloak, but beneath the bones is a kind soul who enjoys a cup of coffee and sharing experiences gathered from every corner of time.
You can find a longer introduction + a short story about their first meeting HERE
"Under the Same Sky"
Narrated by Quinley
The clouds drifted slowly across the blue sky. The sun’s rays had finally begun to regain their warmth, and it felt as if the entire forest was slowly awakening from its winter rest.
I glanced at Herrow, lying beside me on the thick blanket. My human friends had grown bored long ago and started scrolling through their phones, but if anyone can truly appreciate stillness, it is Death.
“Imagine,” he said, “it is the same sky you humans have studied for thousands of years.”
Herrow’s comment gave me that strange sensation that almost feels like vertigo when trying to grasp an abstract idea. A bit like when I think too much about how Earth is just a small stone rushing through space…
“Does it ever feel like you’ve seen everything there is to see up there?” I pointed toward a cloud that seemed unable to decide whether it resembled a dog or a duck.
“Oh no. There is always something new to see. Nature will probably never stop surprising me — just like you humans.”
I laughed softly. “Yes, you really have seen us at our best… and at our worst…”
In my thoughts, images flickered past — great discoveries and equally great catastrophes.
My mind kept turning while we lay there watching the clouds in comfortable silence.
Many opposites balance one another. Day and night, summer and winter, life and death.
I looked at Herrow. Lying completely still, he could just as easily have been nothing more than a skeleton in a black robe — yet somehow I knew he lived.
…And that he would never experience what it is like to die. Or would he?
I frowned, curiosity gnawing at me.
“Herrow… can you die?”
With a soft clicking sound, he turned his head toward me, his empty eye sockets meeting my gaze.
“To be able to die, one must first live. I do not live — I exist.”
He folded his arms behind his head, a gesture that made him look even more relaxed despite the somber subject. I bit my lip and continued voicing my thoughts.
“If you could… would you want to die someday?”
My stomach tightened the same way it does when I’m reminded that everyone in my life will one day disappear. However natural death may be, I still hope it waits a long time before coming for me or those I love. Then again, I’m not sure I would want an eternal life — or eternal existence — like Herrow’s.
The Reaper lay silent for a long while before answering.
“Some people seem incredibly relieved when I come to collect them, so yes, I admit there is a certain curiosity about what they have just experienced. But… I care too much for my work to leave it to someone else.”
“But… just one more question.” I pulled my jacket tighter around me as a cool breeze made the first spring flowers sway in the clearing. “Doesn’t it ever make you sad, knowing that every human, animal, and plant you see will disappear one day?”
I thought of how some elderly people found it deeply depressing when their list of friends grew shorter and funeral invitations became more frequent. Herrow must have lost countless friends, and yet he always seemed to be in good spirits.
“It is the way of nature. First comes life. Then comes me.” Herrow brushed a strand of hair away from my face. “Sometimes I am allowed to grow close to people while they are still alive. Others I must follow from afar. The same is true for animals and for nature itself. I cherish every moment I am allowed to share with all of you — great and small.”
Before I could ask another question, he continued: “I never feel lonely. Every new day brings countless new lives to follow.”