Years ago, my elderly father sat across the kitchen bar from me. I figured it was time to broach the subject of how he felt about death, given that his life expectancy was a short measure.
I said, "Dad, you know we've talked over the many years about life and death...are there any thoughts you wish to share about how it is most likely that at some point I will be placing a spare plate for you at the dinner table? Do you have any concerns? Like where you go when you die?"
Dad thought for a minute, no words did he say, then he simply stood up and looked at me.
I said, "Ok, I'm supposed to ask you what just happened. What?"
He said, "My lap. A minute ago I was sitting and I had a lap. Now I'm standing. Where did my lap go?"
After picking my jaw up off the floor at my father's profound and succinct answer to an existential question that has dogged humans since they sat around the campfire licking their fingers after a good meal...an answer that he gave not in words but in action...I said, "'Nuff said."
Then we finished our meal with satisfaction.