What's your place?  I ask because I recently reread German philosopher Friedrich Nietzsche's soliloquy on the death of God.  Writing, in his The Gay Science, and adopting the guise of a "madman," Nietzsche asks, "Whither is God?  I will tell you.  We have killed him--you and I" [italics Nietzsche].  And, he adds, "Whither are we moving? . . . Are we not plunging continually? . . . Is there still any up or down?  Are we not straying as through an infinite nothing?  Do we not feel the breath of empty space?  As it not become colder? Is not night continually closing in on us?"
     Any death creates a space, a gap, however large or small, in the fabric of existence.  A death is a tear in the tapestry of reality.  It shrinks the world; it makes it less complete. Given how most of us define God, that is, as an extraordinarily large and powerful being, the death of God would therefore produce an enormous hole in the universe.  We would feel colder, we would feel emptier, we would feel as if "night" were "continually closing in on us."  We would be alone in a way that we probably cannot presently imagine.
     Put another way, we would no longer have a place.  Sure, we would continue to exist, and sure, we would continue to do what we enjoy doing, and sure, we would continue to die.  Why would we not?  But we would do all these things in a world, and cosmos, that are no more than space, excruciatingly dead and empty space, no rhyme, no reason, no point as to why they, or we, should be here.
     Succinctly and cogently, Nietzsche stumbled onto a painful and difficult truth:  space will never be place.
     What's your place?