The saddest thing about Death is that you won't be able to hug the ones you love.
You won't hear yourself, your thoughts, you won't exist to yourself anymore, it's bye bye conscience.
More than absolut silence, is the conjunction of a smashing emptiness, that, together, portraits an overwhelming sensation of utter inexistence. Something never experienced, for Death is a stranger, that embraces you with an unavoidable hug, and that you cannot introduce to your friends as being someone you've grown a friendship with.
Someone will have to dress your rigor mortis corpse, stiffened and daggering cold.
Someone will see you as you are, only when you are not anymore.