I’m pretty accepting of it, and in a weird way kind of looking forward to either “sleeping forever” or finding out I’m wrong about what happens. Still, in certa

I’m pretty accepting of it, and in a weird way kind of looking forward to either “sleeping forever” or finding out I’m wrong about what happens. Still, in certain moments thinking about it, I feel fear. I think it’s instinctual. That said, I think I fear the moments before death more than death. I went to the hospital recently for chest pain. Heart issues run in my family. Both grandfathers and all but one of my uncles (on both sides) had heart attacks before they were my current age. I do keep myself generally healthier than they ever did, but of course a huge chunk of it is genetic. I didn’t feel I was having a heart attack, but I didn’t know. (I wasn’t, I found out later.) I felt a significant level of fear. My fear wasn’t really focused on death, but on never leaving the hospital; on the last time I did things being the last time; on being trapped, in a sense, prevented from doing the things I still wanted to do; and leaving my girlfriend and daughter to deal with either a protracted illness or my absence. Death itself wasn’t really a worry. I think I kind of grok that things won’t be my problem anymore then and I’m cool with it. On the other hand, maybe that’s just delusion. I’ll be third in line when they start handing out immortality shots. (Trying to split the difference between flawed implementations and over-regulation.) I think it’s just because I like to live, but maybe I’m just afraid not to.