Die good | Issue #1

Nobody wants to talk about death.

And honestly? Fair. Why worry about the (potential) end while you’re here, right smack in the middle of living?

But that’s just it - our collective refusal to talk about, think about, or even acknowledge death might be one of the most expensive mistakes we make as human beings. Not in a morbid way. In a ‘You’re burning through your life without considering the most critical aspect of it’ kind of way.

So. Let’s talk about it.

The West avoids death like the… wait…

We treat death like a system error. A personal failure. Something that happens to other people until, one day, it happens to you, and everyone around you acts like something has gone horribly wrong.

“I’m so sorry for your loss.” What kind of statement is that?

“It’s so tough now that he’s gone.” You sure he is?

Compare this to how other cultures do it. In Mexico, Día de los Muertos isn’t a grim occasion - it’s colorful altars, parades, and laughing with the dead like they’re still part of the family. Because to them, they are.

Indigenous Australians view death as a return to the Dreaming - a reunion, not an ending.

Tibetan Buddhists treat it as a transition they actually prepare for, the way a reasonable person prepares for a long trip.

Meanwhile, over here, we use phrases like “passed away” and “lost their battle” - sanitizing language that keeps death at arm’s length, tucked away in sterile hospital rooms, hidden inside polite conversation, buried like a pea under the mattress.

What does all the avoidance actually cost us?

An uncomfortable truth

When you refuse to think about death, you also refuse to think clearly about what actually matters in life. About whether the way you’re spending your days lines up with who you actually want to be.

The Stoics had a practice called memento mori - “remember that you will die.” Not framed as a downer, but as a focusing tool to sort through and prioritize what matters, given the perceived limited time.

Near-death experience survivors - people who technically died and came back - report the same themes over and over again, across cultures, across belief systems. Love mattered in the end. Connection mattered. The meetings they stressed about, the grudges they held, the years they spent doing something they hated for money they didn’t need - not so much.

There’s a question worth sitting with. Not right now, necessarily. But soon.

When you’re lying on your deathbed, will you be proud of the life you lived?

That question, asked honestly and often, has the power to change pretty much everything about how you operate day-to-day. It’s clarifying in a way that’s hard to get from anywhere else.

This is the first issue of a series

A while back I wrote a paper on this subject. Over the next several weeks, we’re going to pull it apart here and work through what it means to approach death with some wisdom, some humor, and a lot less fear.

We’ll dive deeper into cultural perspectives, near-death experiences, how to grieve better and, ultimately, how to prepare for your own death in a way that makes you better at living (and vice-versa).

It’ll get uncomfortable. It’ll get a little heavy. But it’ll be fun and worthwhile, too.

That’s kind of the whole point.

So. Let’s learn how to die good.

Love to all and talk soon -

Drew

Related Poetry

I share thoughtful word art and short reflections on life, death, and what actually matters in between. One short note every week or two. No pressure. No noise. Unsubscribe anytime. Visit the website for more.

Thanks and we’ll talk again soon -

Drew