Death thoughts running through my head

One of the reasons I started this blog was to ensure that I wouldn't get depressed about turning 40. Many people keep saying, "40 is the new 30," and for the most part, I agree. I really do not feel like I'm turning 40. I keep pretty active, my health is good (thankfully), and aside from a few wrinkles, sags in various places, and some gray hair, I feel much younger than the years indicate.

I used to obsess a lot about death. It's one of my greatest fears in life. My faith tells me to believe there is life after this, but I have a hard time believing because I'm an evidence kind of guy. Ever since I was a kid, probably from the time I was around Lily's age, I used to get sick to my stomach thinking about death. The blackness, then end of conscious existence, the end of family, and friends, and food, shelter; the end of life. I vividly remember walking in circles thinking about it. Over the years, the fear would creep up on me, sometimes out of nowhere. My heart would beat faster, I'd begin sweating, I'd be on the verge of tears.

I honestly believe this blog--the exploration, celebration, and revealing nature of confessional writing--has helped me get through the year. I have not spent much time thinking about "the end." Maybe I've just been too wrapped up in the past and present to think about the future.

Until last night.

I'm currently reading the new Raymond Carver biography. It's a mammoth book, 592 pages, and really digs deep into the life of one of my favorite writers. As I was reading last night, it dawned on me that Carver was just a few months younger than my father. Carver died of lung cancer in 1988. He was only 50 years old. My father outlasted Carver by 19 years. From there, I began thinking about dying young. A friend of mine from work lost his father this week in a tragic accident. His father was only 53 years old.

I couldn't shake the death thoughts running through my head. 50. 53. 69. That's 10 years, 13 years, and 29 years from now. 40 years has gone by in a blip, I thought to myself. I need to figure out how to slow these years down.

I know that's not possible. I know it's best to live in the moment. I know it's best to live each day to its fullest; to live every day like it is actually my last. But that's easier said than done. Life, itself, gets in the way.

I didn't get up and walk around in circles. I didn't let my heart begin to race. I wasn't sweating. I was scared, but I took a couple of breaths and thought. I thought about the things I have done in these 40 years. I thought about my wife and kids. I thought about the life I've spent writing about and the life I'll spend living and writing about for the rest of my life. No matter how long that will be.