— Death is understandable, but it takes a lifetime to understand it —

Walt Whitman
From “Song of Myself ”

 I wish I could translate the hints about the dead young men and women,

And the hints about old men and mothers, and the offspring taken soon out of their laps.

What do you think has become of the young and old men?

And what do you think has become of the women and children?

They are alive and well somewhere,

The smallest sprout shows there is really no death,

And if ever there was it led forward life, and does not wait at the end to arrest it,

And ceas’d the moment life appear’d.

All goes onward and outward, nothing collapses,

And to die is different from what any one supposed, and luckier.

Passing on to the Next Step in Life

In the hospice bed, you meet your maker, and realize your life goes on
You see old friends and relatives, that went on before you
After reminiscing for a time, you see the path before you, and you never died.

You left the physical realm and took a spiritual form
The physical vehicle you drove, is no more
Now you drive the limitless spiritual form, it may not be the flesh, but it’s without pain