My cat is dying.  When he wasn’t dying I used to pet him and joke about how he was going to kitty hell where there would be dogs, water, and tin foil.  And he’d see Emily our other cat who was already there.  Now that he’s dying it’s different.  He is going to cease to exist just like I and everyone will someday.  I think we have this unspoken belief that tears have magical properties that can make things real (like in the Velveteen Rabbit).  If our heart is wrenched enough by death then the potency of the emotion tells us there must be something beyond the grave.