“Why do we have to die?”
I don’t think that’s asking for the mechanics of life and death, or even for the meaning of life and/or death.
I think that’s a plaintive cry of mourning. It is the despair of facing something you can do nothing about. It is the loss of something like and arm or a leg. It sends phantom signals to your brain. You live as if the limb was still there, and it feels like the limb is still there, and it is a constant surprise to find it is gone.
The only possible response, as inadequate as it is, is “I’m sorry for your loss.”
I can’t imagine what your loss is like. All I know is the ones in my life, and I trust that we feel pretty much the same when we lose someone close to us, as I am about to do. A dear friend is at the end of brain cancer. We knew he had cancer, but we had no idea it was going this fast.
There’s a psychic emptiness that fills that space of the phantom person or phantom limb, and it’s an emptiness that can never, ever be filled. The loss is permanent.
“Why do we have to die?”
There’s no satisfying answer. There’s nothing that can tell us how to avoid the pain. There’s nothing that will bring him or her back. But why? Why? Why do they have to die?