When we die, of course, the great mysteries unfold—do we drift into light, dissolve into nothingness, or wake up from this life like it was all one long, weird dream? Philosophers and poets have wrestled with that for centuries, but the IRS has been far more practical: they’ve decided that, whatever the afterlife looks like, your earthly assets aren’t coming with you. The grim reaper may take your soul, but the government gets first dibs on the silverware. In a way, estate taxes are the most grounding reminder that our possessions were always temporary. Your house, your stocks, even that lovingly hoarded guitar collection—all of it turns into a line item on a return. It’s almost poetic, really: proof that wealth was never yours to keep, just to shuffle around for a little while before passing it on. So maybe the real answer to “what happens when we die” isn’t pearly gates or reincarnation—it’s paperwork, notarized signatures, and a final wink from Uncle Sam as he helps himself to a slice of your legacy.