Guilt, suffering and death are the tragic triad that shapes our human being; but none is more elusive than death to us. She, like the thought or language are an essential part of our being, and it is an impenetrable wall that closes us stubbornly. Why we resist dying, while the other beings of nature accept dying? The answer: only the man knows that he has to die; other beings do not die, perish, become corrupt; other beings in the absence of thought, don’t know that they must die; his live is pure spontaneity. The man is not only life, is reflection on life; and it is not only natural life, it is significant existence. The animal does not last, his memory is mechanics, nor future, it has no projects, lives the immediacy of the consciousness of the present, without time, neither history nor tradition. Time exists only for man, for the consciousness that is your measurement (it is neither short nor long), and therefore, transcends it. The problem of immortality has interested the man since he had consciousness, and it is not a purely rational problem, but existential, i.e., it covers the existence in its entirety.
Point out that historians since the end of the 18th century, the death, burial and mourning, which were accepted relatively, were expelled from the collective Western imagination, precisely when these phenomena are increasingly patents and terrible. Just look how since the French Revolution, through world wars I and II, death ceased to be a predictable, local, phenomenon and murders or deaths of millions of people became common in mass, that instead of awareness, they have prevented us from accepting it as an inherent reality to our life. Perhaps this is what has become taboo, and increasingly the materiality of death is replaced by its concealment, and thus increasingly Dodge talk about her, and the art of dying of Socrates and Montaigne, or the die your own death we talked about Rilke are foreign issues for the vast majority.