There's something almost defiant in this image—the idea that we spend our whole lives celebrating beginnings, yet we treat the end like a tragedy we're forced to witness. Hugo suggests we've gotten the math backwards. We wake up to sunrises all the time and feel wonder, relief, renewal. Why should the final transition be any different? It's a reframing that quietly challenges our default anxiety about mortality.
The quote lands differently depending on where you are in life. When you're young, it might feel like philosophical poetry. But as you get older, or when you're close to someone declining, you start to notice something true underneath it: people who've lived full lives often do seem more at peace with endings than we expect. They've seen enough sunrises to know that light returns. They understand cycles. They're not pretending death isn't real—they're just refusing to shrink it into something uniquely terrible.
What's sneakily powerful here is that Hugo isn't asking you to be fearless or transcendent. He's just asking you to apply the same logic you already use for mornings. You don't know what a sunrise will bring when you wake up, yet you're usually glad you did. That openness, that willingness to be surprised—maybe that's available at the other end too.