There are a million myths for death. Here is one for the egghead in me that does not abandon the hope of mystery.
Water to ice and then what. Steam. Sublimation in physics is the transformation (poof!) of a solid to a gas without passing through the liquid phase. (Freud then made up a whole different definition of sublimation, which I find odd – not the definition he has for it, but that he seriously muddied the waters on wondrous word.)
New souls flowing over the falls into the world, new lives on the run and all about action. Make room. Old souls finding their diamond selves in rest. For me there are few things more beautiful than a young human on the run in a life, and yet wisdom is the jewel the old human leaves as her gift to life. And then steam. Death isn‘t cold, I guess? It is the odd transformation of this solid self to a vapor and it requires heat. Even as our bodies vibrate more slowly and then stop vibrating altogether and the quantum question of where the atoms find themselves becomes meaningless, the soul slips out the back door, a shadow without its solid self to get in the way of light. We die, we sublimate.
Am I making this up? Yes.