Have You Ever Thought About Lying in a Coffin?

Since we were little, we were taught not to say the word death.

It’s considered unlucky, pantang, a word that invites bad luck.

You say it during Chinese New Year or in front of older folks, and they immediately shush you, knock on wood, or tell you not to “curse” anyone. Even outside of superstition, most people just avoid the topic entirely. It’s awkward. Heavy. Sad.

And yet… isn’t it the one thing we all have in common?

Because of this silence, many of us grow up unprepared.

We don’t know how to deal with grief.

We don’t know how to talk to someone who’s just lost a loved one.

We don’t even know how to process our own emotions when someone close to us dies.

We fumble through funerals, unsure what to say.

We hide our pain behind polite nods and awkward small talk.

And once the rituals are over, life goes on — but we’re left with this quiet emptiness.

Regret. Guilt. Words left unsaid.

A few days ago, I participated in a unique event — something called a “Rite of Life.”

It was a guided experience that helped people understand the final chapter of life: what happens when someone passes, what preparations are needed, how the family copes, and most importantly, how to say goodbye.

It wasn’t like a talk show or lecture. It was immersive, even emotional.

And then came the part that changed me: they asked us to lie down and imagine ourselves in a coffin.

Yes — to close our eyes, lie in stillness, and think:

If this was the end, how would I feel?

It was quiet. Heavy. But not in a depressing way.

It felt strangely real.

No phone buzzing. No plans. No rushing.

Just stillness — and a wave of thoughts I couldn’t push away anymore.

I started thinking of all the things I haven't done.

The people I love, but rarely say it to.

The apologies I still haven’t made.

The dreams I put on hold because “there’s still time.”

But what if there’s not?

That moment made me realise something simple but powerful:

We prepare for everything in life — school, work, marriage, children, even retirement.

But when it comes to death, we act like it won’t happen.

We pretend we have unlimited time.

And because of that, many people live passively — until it's too late.

This experience didn’t teach me how to die.

But it did teach me how to live.

It reminded me that time is not promised.

That every interaction could be our last.

And that living well is the best way to prepare for death.

It also showed me that we need to talk about death — not just in hospitals or funerals, but in real, everyday conversations.

Because when we avoid it, we avoid the chance to be prepared.

And when someone we love passes, we won’t just grieve — we’ll panic, feel lost, and wish we had done more.

Now, I try to live more intentionally.

I say “I love you” more often.

I express gratitude while people are still here.

I try not to hold grudges too tightly.

And I remind myself: one day, I too will lie in a coffin. And I want to leave this world with peace, not regret.

When that time comes, I hope I won’t be afraid.

I hope I’ll be ready.

And I hope the people around me will feel love, not just loss — because I’ve given them my best while I was alive.

The truth is, we’re all walking toward the same ending.

But the journey — how we love, forgive, laugh, and live — is what truly matters.

So don’t be afraid to talk about death.

Let it teach you how to live.