The Point of Life is Death, Therefore We Must Keep Living
- Helen Moores
- Mar 18
- 4 min read
Updated: Apr 1
When I sit by the window, sipping my morning tea and watching the mist roll over the Mendip hills outside the cottage, I often find myself reflecting on the strange, beautiful, and sometimes unbearably painful ebb and flow of life.
I live a quiet life here mostly, working from home as a therapist, helping others navigate the tumultuous seas of their emotions. But the idea of life and death, and how they intertwine, is never far from my thoughts.
Such a thought crossed my mind recently, that I keep coming back to:
The point of life is death...therefore, we must keep living
This statement feels so simple, almost trite, like a truth tucked in between the lines of a well-worn self-help book.
But I wonder if we truly take it to heart.
Living in a quiet part of the world, I don’t experience the hustle and bustle of busy city life surrounding me, but what I do have are my clients - people who, like all of us, wrestle with the paradox of life and death. Some are mourning the loss of a loved one. Others, it’s the loss of a part of themselves they can’t quite explain.
Grief has many faces, and it’s a constant reminder that life isn’t something we should take for granted.
A Delicate Balance
It doesn’t mean that death is the be-all and end-all of our thoughts. Instead, it’s a reminder that everything we have - every single thing we hold dear - has an expiration date. People, moments, opportunities… they all come with an inevitable end.
But there’s something incredibly powerful about that, isn’t there?
Because in facing loss and death, we are reminded with an excrutiatingly painful lesson that we must keep living. We must keep moving forward, even if it feels impossible at times. Grief doesn’t just leave a gaping hole in our hearts; it also teaches us the importance of finding meaning in what remains.
The Struggle
When we experience grief, it feels as though life has stopped, and that the world 'out there' has moved on without us. We’re left standing in the wreckage, completely alone. The weight of the whole world pressing down on you, wondering if you can ever smile again, let alone want to.
Grief is something that works through us, piece by piece, often in ways we don’t expect. But just like a storm in the ocean, the violent waves of grief pass each time. What remains are small present-moment opportunities to slowly rebuild - to reimagine a life that acknowledges your loss but doesn’t succumb to it.
What remains each time, in the oscillating temporary calm of the storm, is the microscopically small slow-building knowing inside of you - the life raft that you start makeshifting for yourself, from the debris floating around you, as you bob up and down catching your breath - that the waves are here to stay, but that they will become calmer and your life raft will become a lot stronger.
Forward
I can’t tell you how many people have walked through my door, hesitant at first, unsure of what they’re walking into. It’s normal to feel like you’re burdening others with your 'problems', especially if you're the one normally taking care of everyone else.
Therapy is not about erasing your pain; it’s about giving you the tools to learn to live alongside it, understand it and, ultimately, to heal. It’s about discovering ways to move forward, even when it feels like there’s no way out. Sometimes that can look like taking one day at a time. Sometimes it's 15 minutes at a time.
And sometimes, it's 60 seconds.
Whatever you can manage at that moment in time is ok, and trust that it wont always be like that.
Through difficult conversations, tears, and quiet moments of introspection, we find the strength to keep moving forward. Therapy offers a safe, compassionate space for you to explore your emotions and experiences, and tell your story. Every time someone bears witness to your story, another small piece of you heals in some way.
Therapy is never about just reliving old wounds of painful times gone by that can never be changed.
Therapy is the power of being heard.
Really heard.
It’s been said that life is fragile, but it’s also beautiful in its fragility. When we’re faced with the reality of loss, it reminds us to keep - or start - appreciating the fleeting moments: the sunsets, the laughter, the quiet magical moments of connection right there, waiting for you, in every day of your life. All you have to do is see.
The point of life in some ways yes, is death, but it’s also about how we live in the time we have before the unavoidably certain next chapter for us all.
The point of life is death - with the only thing to do but love - and the inevitable price of love is grief.
