When We Die
A Haunting Journey Through the Fleeting Shadows of Earthly Life to the Eternal Destiny of the Soul
When the Veil Falls
The air is heavy, thick with the scent of antiseptic and the faint whisper of flowers wilting in their vases. You lie still, your chest no longer rising, your eyes no longer searching. The room is quiet now, save for the soft shuffle of feet and the muted sobs of those who loved you.
Your body, once a vessel of laughter, pain, and dreams, is just that now—a body. And as the world you knew fades into shadow, a strange truth settles in: none of it will follow you.Your family moves with practiced care, their hands trembling as they prepare you for the final journey.
They carry you from the home you built, the walls that echoed with your voice, and deliver you to the funeral home. There, strangers with gentle hands strip away your clothes, wash your skin, and dress you in garments you’ll never choose.
They brush color onto your cheeks, trying to coax life into a face that no longer holds it. You are made presentable, a fleeting illusion for those who will come to say goodbye.
Friends and Family Remember
And they will come. Crowds will gather, some out of love, others out of duty. They’ll cancel plans, rearrange schedules, and stand in quiet lines to honor you. They’ll whisper memories, some true, some softened by time.
Your name will linger on their lips, a fleeting note in the symphony of their lives. But the world does not pause. The sun rises, the markets hum, and your desk at work is cleared for another. Someone new steps into your role—perhaps with the same fire, perhaps with more.
Your Possessions
Your absence is noted, then filled. Your possessions, those treasures you guarded so fiercely, are scattered like leaves in a storm. Your keys, once heavy with purpose, are tossed into a drawer.
Your tools, your books, your bibles, your personal logs, the music you loved—they’re sold, donated, packed in storage, or burned. Your clothes, still carrying the faint scent of you, are folded into boxes and given away.
The couch and favorite chair where you laughed, the table where you broke bread—someone else claims them now, unaware of the stories they hold.
Your photographs, those frozen moments of joy, hang briefly on walls or in albums that had been accessible and reviewed together with family and friends before are now tucked into albums to be stored, then forgotten in the bottom of a box.
Physicality Fades
Your friends weep, their grief raw and jagged. For hours, days, maybe weeks, they carry the weight of your loss. But life beckons, and they answer.
Laughter returns, hesitant at first, then full. Your pets curl up with new hands to feed them. Your home, once a sanctuary of your presence, grows quiet.
The deep ache of your absence lingers—a year, two, perhaps a decade. But eventually, you become a memory, a story told less often, until it fades into silence.
This is the truth of the world you leave behind: it moves on. Your beauty, your titles, your reputation, your wealth, your trophies—all of it crumbles to dust.
The house you built, the car you drove, the degrees you earned—they hold no weight where you’re going.
The fleeting things you chased, the worries that kept you awake, the pride you wore like armor—they dissolve, meaningless in the face of eternity.
Eternity Begins
But there, in that uncharted beyond, your story does not end. It begins anew, in a reality where time has no hold, where the soul stands naked before its Creator. And in that moment, one question burns brighter than all others: Where will your soul go?
The world you left offered a thousand paths, a thousand promises. But only one voice echoes through the ages, unshaken and true: “I am the way, the truth, and the life. No one comes to the Father except through me” (John 14:6). Jesus Christ, the Son of God, spoke these words not as a suggestion, but as a lifeline. He is the bridge between your fleeting life and the eternal presence of God.
Only Two Eternal Paths
The Bible cuts through the noise with a clarity that pierces the heart: “Unless a man is born again, he cannot see the kingdom of God” (John 3:3). To be born again is to surrender your soul to Christ, to let His sacrifice—His blood shed on the cross—wash away the stain of your sin. It is to trust, not in your own goodness, but in His perfect love. “For God so loved the world that He gave His only begotten Son, that whoever believes in Him should not perish but have everlasting life” (John 3:16).
The choice is stark, the stakes eternal. “He who believes in Him is not condemned; but he who does not believe is condemned already, because he has not believed in the name of the only begotten Son of God” (John 3:18).
To reject Christ is to choose separation from God, a debt paid in the torment of hell. “For the wages of sin is death, but the gift of God is eternal life in Christ Jesus our Lord” (Romans 6:23). But to accept Him, to believe in His name, is to step into a promise: “Believe in the Lord Jesus Christ, and you will be saved” (Acts 16:31).
Picture it now, as the veil of this world falls away. Your soul, stripped of all earthly trappings, stands before the God who knit you together. What will you carry? Not your wealth, not your accolades, not your regrets. Only your soul, and the choice you made about Jesus.
Did you trust Him? Did you let His love reshape you, redeem you, claim you as His own?
Or did you turn away, clinging to the shadows of a world that could never save you?
This is not a story of fear, but of hope. It is a whisper to your deepest self, a call to invest in the only thing that endures: your soul’s communion with Christ.
The world will forget you, but God never will.
He sees you now, in this moment, and His arms are open.
Choose Him.
Let His grace carry you from the ashes of this life into the glory of the next. For in Christ, your story does not end—it begins forever.
❤️❤️❤️