Have you read The Epic of Gilgamesh?  One of humanity's oldest written stories, Gilgamesh first appeared in the writings of ancient Sumer, shortly before the close of the third millennium BCE.  While whether it deserves to be called history's first narrative tale remains a matter of scholarly debate, Gilgamesh certainly presents one of humanity's earliest attempts to come to grips with the fact of death.

     Briefly, Gilgamesh tells the story of Gilgamesh, the mighty king of Uruk who knew no rival.  But when Gilgamesh encounters Enkidu, a wild man, unruly and untamed, he quickly realizes he has met his equal.  Gilgamesh and Enkidu then agree to roam the deserts and mountains of Mesopotamia, overcoming all who dare stand up to them.

     One day, however, Enkidu develops a fever and, after some days of agony, dies. As Gilgamesh mourns his fallen friend, he says,“When I die, shall I not be like Enkidu [gone forever]?  Woe has entered my belly.  Fearing death, I roam over the steppe.” 

     Gilgamesh has encountered the limits of his mortality, and finds he can do nothing about it.  So it is that later in the story, the "ale-wife" says to him, “Gilgamesh, where do you roam?  The life you pursue you shall not find.  When the gods created mankind, death for mankind they set aside, life in their own hands retaining."

     However powerful you are, Gilgamesh, you will never undo or overcome death.

     Nor can we.  Well, some might respond, that's just how life is.  True enough.  Yet this still doesn't explain why, if we are nothing more than a collection of molecules, we tremble before the prospect of the imminent and total loss of existence.

     Maybe we really are more than a cosmic afterthought.  And maybe there really is, as the "ale-wife" suggested, a life, a uniquely uncaused life, out of which our life comes.