Lately I’ve been reading Seneca’s letters again and while the topics vary widely, one topic he is not afraid to touch is the topic of Death. Death is an integral part of life and often people make a distinction between being alive and being dead. However, there is another way of looking at it in this very black and white manner. We’re all part of something that is greater than us. Part of a whole that is our Universe. Our existence is brief and fleeting in comparison to the vastness of the entire galaxy. It is our lot in life to make do with the time we’re given and adding something of value to the world. Why then make a distinction between existing and not existing? We are all made of the same stuff. We are all made of stardust. When we cease to exist, our atoms will transform and change into something new. I find this to be something of comfort. Nobody is ever truly gone.