If you go to the 10:30 Mass at the Cathedral, you sometimes come across a funeral. Most funerals are private affairs in a small chapel. Here there were few members of the family but the usual 50 or so strangers seated around the vast building. I feel a bit of an interloper on these occasions, but actually, it sums up that death is for anyone, anytime. Eileen was the lady whose funeral it was. I never met her and perhaps never will. Or perhaps I may.

Mata Amritanandamayi again:

Personally I am not interested in celebrating my birthday. The real ‘birthday’ is when the thought ‘I was born’ dies. If we were to live each day as our last day – that is, to live each day to the fullest and share as much love as possible, then each day would be like a birthday: each day would be a celebration. In fact, we should realise that every birthday is also a ‘death day,’ because every birthday takes us closer to death. But people are afraid of death, so in order to forget death, they celebrate their birth instead.