| Morning, Everyone. The other day on Instagram, someone asked me for my death row meal. In case you’re curious, it was: Foie gras to start. Bottle of 2000 Petrus. Rack of lamb as the main course. Penne pasta with mushroom truffle cream sauce. Cherry Garcia ice cream to finish. But that’s not what I’m writing about for today’s Sunday with Sisson. Today I’m writing about death. Death is the ultimate mystery, the grand adventure. We all think about it, even if we aren’t doing so consciously. It lurks in the back of everything we do, everything we say and think. Kids are always asking about death. "When am I going to die?" "What happens after we die?" "When will you die?" I don't know what happens when we die. I'm on the materialist side, so I have my guesses, but I don't know. What do I know about death?
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It's the end. Because no matter how mysterious the experience of death remains—what happens after we die, do we experience anything at the moment of death, and all the other things you talk about at 2 am in a dorm room or around the campfire or when chatting with the priest after Sunday service or deep in the Amazon in the throes of an ayahuasca ceremony—death means the end of whatever life is. This is all over, even if something else comes after. And this is all we know. It’s pretty important to us. Everyone feels the pull of death. Or rather, the push. That's what death is to me: a forcing pushing me forward. A force driving me to keep pushing hard in life to get the most out of it. To play more, to build things, to create, to spend time with my family, to laugh, to read, to write, to live a life without regrets. That's what death means to me (at least for the time being). What does death mean to you? And what would your final death row meal be? | 
