Death is a trick.
A celebration of a life because suddenly, they open the box - past mistakes, secret conversations, old photographs.
It could be a grand exit. Could be an entrance, too.
But let's call it traveling, shall we?
We could call it a postcard.
Or a snapshot.
Like, eating ice cream in a floating cottage, giggling over some secret story of that one night back when you were still in college and you realized life is there for the taking.