Happyness Peddler

Whenever I hear the word death , my mind immediately takes a detour to the afterlife. Where exactly are we all rushing off to? And if we aren’t happy with where we are right now, what makes us think the next destination will be better? Will it be some sudden, random escape? Like dying in an accident and finding yourself in… what? A cosmic waiting room? Or will it be the slow fade-out after years of pain, disease, or the long stretch of old age? I’ve read plenty. I’ve watched countless shows and films that try to give us a visual of what’s “out there.” And yet… I’m still not sure. Is it a blinding white light? A vacuum? A dark hole? Someone’s Pinterest-worthy home in the clouds? And here’s my favourite question: will I carry my regrets with me? Will I look back and think, Wow, I really should’ve eaten more cake and stressed less about deadlines ? Or does death come with a free memory wipe — the ultimate clean slate — making all of this just an earthly sham we’re overthinking? Differ...

When was the first time you really understood the idea of death? I think I was about seven. My grandfather had just died and everyone around me was speaking in this soft, careful tone, as though if they were too loud, he might come back and complain about the noise. I remember feeling confused — not just about the loss, but about the strange choreography that comes with it. People whispering. Adults saying “he’s gone” without giving any forwarding address. It wasn’t until I was about eleven — give or take, because my memory has the consistency of a leaky sieve — that I truly began to grasp what death meant. And then… I forgot. Not forgot like I forgot death exists (that would be a talent), but forgot the emotional weight of it. Life has a way of tucking certain lessons into the attic until they randomly tumble back down onto your head. And lately, death’s been back in my thoughts, tapping me on the shoulder like, “Hey, remember me?” Here’s the thing: I don’t think the concept of a...