It is a curious thing, the death of a loved one. We all know that our time in this world is limited, and that eventually all of us will end up underneath some sheet, never to wake up. And yet it is always a surprise when it happens to someone we know. It is like walking up the stairs to your bedroom in the dark, and thinking there is one more stair than there is. Your foot falls down, through the air, and there is a sickly moment of dark surprise as you try and readjust the way you thought of things.
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There's the communal memory of a thing as well. Let's say you and I both know about a vase. We can describe it, we know what it looks like.
It breaks. That vase lives on only in memory, of you, and I. To anyone else, ignorant of its existence, it was just a 'vase', to us, it was 'that vase'; and people we tell about it will have that same communal memory.
As long as the essence of that memory continues to exist, does the vase also, if its physical form is no more?