the older i get

The older I get, the more I fear dying. Not that I fear the pain associated with whatever may have caused my death, but it's more fear of not being here anymore. I imagine myself laying there, on my last breath, thinking of my daughter who will grow up without her dad, and my son who I didn't even get to have a conversation with. Of course, my wife, which at that point, I would have let her down; by dying. By not being there anymore. I doubt they can't live without me, but I'm confident that my dying will impact them negatively.

Now, I don't participate in dangerous behavior or put myself in situations where I might end up dead. Or do I? Is something causing my increasing fear of this? Let's see: driving 3.5 hours a day on the Los Angeles freeways–inevitable. And really, not that dangerous. I'm a very conscious driver, with a ton of experience and an actively aware driver. I actually watch out for others' mistakes as they are happening and adjust.

Kickboxing? Nah, I don't even really fight. I hardly spar. And I wear a cup. Mountain biking? Not hardcore anymore. I don't ride in the real mountains with bears and mountain lions anymore. Do I frequent bars with tough-asses doing the equivalent of an ape banging his chest to impress the ladies? Again, no.

It's the simple, safe, seemingly safe activities that make me think. Jogging tonight, I kept looking out for loose pitbulls, or a pack of wild dogs on their night prowl. I don't want my family to visit me in the hospital and be afraid to look at me because of how the pack left me. Or visit me in the mortuary. I also kept running back up to the sidewalk from the street in case a drunk driver might swerve and run my ass over. Or for that matter, a distracted mother with kids. There are no lights for a good three blocks, so I also feared slipping on some broken glass, causing me to fall, putting my hand down onto–a piece of broken glass, sliting my wrist. I envisioned myself not making it home, but making it just around the corner, before finally bleeding to death and thinking of how I let my family down. "I'm sorry wife, I'm sorry my son, I'm sorry my daughter for allowing this to happen. Please forgive me. Sorry I couldn't say 'Good bye.'"

Let's get something straight right about now. I don't actually think I'm going to die soon, in fact I think I'm going to live to see my 100th birthday. Really. Like I mentioned, I live a relatively healthy lifestyle. I'm full of health. The doctor told me. So what's my beef? I don't know, but I think it's normal. Like when a teen thinks he's invincible because his brain's not fully developed yet, and he has not developed his frontal cortex, enabeling him to think things logically. It's probably normal to feel responsible for your family, and therefore fear not being there more and more.