Tis not that Dying hurts us so

Often we try to comfort ourselves with many a reason for things that happen, we try to comprehend by asking questions and making up answers. At the same time, hundreds of other questions linger in our minds, whether they be things we really do not know or things we blame ourselves for or things we wish have gone differently. Perhaps it is just the way humans are, we are in constant search for answers to life's (or death's) many questions. Some times, there are no real answers, and we should be at peace with that fact. Everything goes in full circles, eventually.

'Tis not that Dying hurts us so --
'Tis Living -- hurts us more --
But Dying -- is a different way --
A Kind behind the Door --

The Southern Custom -- of the Bird --
That ere the Frosts are due --
Accepts a better Latitude --
We -- are the Birds -- that stay.

The Shrivers round Farmers' doors --
For whose reluctant Crumb --
We stipulate -- till pitying Snows
Persuade our Feathers Home.

- Emily Dickinson