I have never died before, but death should feel good.

I thought about death today. Strangely, I wasn’t scared, nor did I rebuke it—or the thought. The thought of death and dying came with peace, and a feeling I can’t even explain. Like a hint of how death should be—peaceful, with a sense of fulfillment.

Where, in the last three minutes, your brain replays your life. Not the worst moments, not your biggest mistakes, but the ones that made you smile, the ones that mattered. There should be a smile on your face, with no panic or fear in your heart. Knowing you are dying, but your mind is at peace.

I imagined myself in it, and I didn’t panic or rebuke the thought. I just… sat with it. And in that moment, it felt okay. Not something to fear, not something to run from—just something that will come, as naturally as sleep after a long, full day.

I remember one evening, sitting outside my lodge at around 12 a.m., reading for an exam. My mind got distracted by the stillness of the night and the quiet silence. The stars were sitting pretty and calm in the sky, and the night breeze was so peaceful. There was me, alone, sitting in the midst of the dark and quiet night, admiring its beauty. That is how death feels. Quiet. Gentle. Complete.

I think death should feel like coming home. Like everything has finally quieted down, and you no longer need to hold anything together.

Death is certain for everyone on earth, and no amount of God forbid can change that fact. We’ll just pray we live a long and fulfilling life, and not die a miserable death.

But if death comes—whenever it comes—I hope it finds me calm, with peace in my soul and a quiet smile on my face.

POV: I am not dying now