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This week, my husband picked up our daughters from school. On the drive home, they noticed a squirrel lying still by the side of the road. Since my husband is a science teacher, he stopped the car, got out, and gently showed them the squirrel. That night at dinner, our four-year-old turned to me and asked, “Mommy, why wasn’t the squirrel moving?”

She didn’t yet know what it meant to be alive. Or not. What followed was one of the most tender and surreal conversations I’ve had as a parent: explaining death to someone who hasn’t yet felt its weight. I told her the squirrel’s body had stopped working. That it wouldn’t come back. And that every living thing—including us—will one day stop moving, too.

She looked at me, wide-eyed, and asked, “Then what happens to us?”

It’s the same question humanity has asked for centuries. What happens after we die? It’s a question children stumble into—and adults quietly carry for a lifetime.

Big Idea: What We Believe About Death, Shapes How We View Ourselves.

Across time, culture, and tradition, humans have sought answers to what comes after this life. We bury, we mourn, we imagine. We create stories of heaven, reincarnation, ancestral return, or simply peace. Why?

Because we are the only species that knows we are going to die.

Religions and spiritual traditions around the world respond to this awareness in four key ways.

1. They soothe our fear. By naming what might come next, they help us make sense of the unknown and find peace in the present.

2. They give life meaning. If something awaits us beyond this moment, then how we live now matters deeply.

3. They shape moral action. The promise of reward or the warning of judgment encourages us to live ethically, with love and care for others.

4. They connect us to something bigger. Death invites us to remember that we are part of a story that extends beyond the self, beyond the now.

And it’s not just religion that sees value in asking this question. Psychology, too, confirms that engaging with our mortality—rather than avoiding it—can actually enhance well-being. It grounds us. It makes us intentional. It awakens us to meaning.

So, how do you think about death? And how does that belief shape how you live?

Try This: Reverse Engineer Your Life

In coaching, one of the most clarifying exercises we use is the “eulogy practice.” Here’s how it works:

• Imagine someone you love is giving a eulogy at your funeral.

• What would you hope they say about you? About how you lived?

• Now reflect: what beliefs about life, death, or meaning are underneath your answers?

Contemplating the end can reveal a lot about what truly matters to you now, and who you are. If you feel resistance to this exercise, just notice it. What fears or questions come up? What beliefs—or lack of beliefs—might need revisiting?

Closing Thoughts

For me, Christianity offers more than comfort. It offers a promise: that death is not the end. That we were created for eternal communion with God. That love outlasts the body.

Jesus said, “I am the resurrection and the life. The one who believes in me will live, even though they die.” At the heart of the Christian story is not fear, but hope—a belief that this life, with all its beauty and brokenness, is only the beginning.

This belief doesn’t remove mystery. But it reframes it. It invites me to live with clarity, to love more freely, to suffer with purpose, and to trust that each moment belongs to something far greater than myself.

I don’t have all the answers. But I hold onto this one: love never dies.

Coming next: This marks the end of our first chapter, exploring the question “Who am I?”—for now. In the next article, we’ll begin a new journey into purpose, starting with one of life’s most pressing questions: “Why am I here?” 

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