Death Is the Wish of Some: Seneca’s Brutal Clarity on the End We All Face

A brooding, oil-painted portrait of an aged philosopher—Seneca the Younger, or a symbolic echo of him—his weathered face half-illuminated in a dim chiaroscuro glow. His expression is solemn, meditative, carved by time and grief. In the folds of darkness behind him, two skulls barely emerge, like whispered reminders of death lingering at his shoulder. The composition is minimal, almost monastic, forcing the viewer into stillness and silence. This is not a portrait of a man, but of a mind weighed by truth. A soul forged in shadow. An image made for those who no longer fear the end—but fear never having lived.

“Death is the wish of some, the relief of many, and the end of all.”
— Seneca

You don’t find this quote by accident.

You come to it because something’s cracking.
You lost someone.
You’re losing someone.
Or maybe it’s yourself you’re trying to find in the dark.

Seneca didn’t write this to shock.
He wrote it because no one escapes this truth,
and most of us live like we might.

Death Isn’t One Thing.

It’s three.

“The wish of some…”

Some stare into death’s face and beg.
Beg for the pain to stop.
Beg for the silence to come.
Beg for something cleaner than what they’ve been carrying.

Seneca saw this in slaves, in the sick, in the broken.
He saw that some don’t fear death—
they crave it as the only exit from a life that no longer feels like one.

“The relief of many…”

For others, death isn’t sought.
But when it arrives—it feels like a mercy.

A release.
A softening.
A final breath that no longer struggles.

When someone you love suffers long,
you start to pray for peace more than time.
And when they finally go—
you grieve and exhale.
Because you know they’re free.

“The end of all…”

And still—
Death comes for every name.
Every title.
Every secret, every story, every star in the sky.

The king. The child. The addict. The lover. The one who never spoke their truth.
We all end.
Not as punishment.
But as part of the design.

Seneca didn’t say this to make you numb.
He said it to make you live with your eyes open.

If You’re Grieving Now

Know this:
You’re not broken for feeling the mix—
the sadness, the relief, the guilt, the silence.

Seneca already mapped it.
You're walking an ancient road.

Death takes, but it also reveals.

It reveals what mattered.
Who mattered.
And what we should’ve said before they disappeared.

This Is Why I Write Eulogies

To speak what wasn’t said.
To honor what was real.
To give death its full weight—without turning away.

If you need help putting final words into shape,
that’s what I do.
Poetic, sharp, honest.

Because when the end comes, the story deserves to be remembered.

Based in Los Angeles, serving clients worldwide. Visit: www.mementomorimemorials.com
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