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I'd say that something 'drives' us, as well. You can call this the unconscious, you can call this selfish genetic structures designed to replicate themselves in the most successfully volatile combinations given environmental settings and stress demand, or you could just call this a soul, which admittedly has a lot of very mystical, socially-transmissive connotations, but doesn't mean much because it's so very vague. Or maybe that's the entire point.
Regardless, people go to the same place as the flowers strewn over their gravesites do. But that is not necessarily a negative thing - to become the ground, the earth, dissemination towards unknown gravities and states of being or non-being, whereby perceived consciousnesses grab at the roots of reality upon their plummet, grasping to make sense of existence as though it would make a difference. Sometimes, it is rather comforting knowing that you probably know just as much about the true nature of things as a tree does.
I think a more interesting question would be: do souls have colours yet unseen to us? Sounds never heard until that final tear through the visage of the consensus time phenomenon in which we share thoughts with one another? Do souls feel? Are they merely ferried by a unifying force one might call 'God' or is he still a silent passenger even in the all-feeling inexistence of death as we might know it?
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There are more things in heaven and earth, Horatio,
Than are dreamt of in your philosophy.
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