 I'm not afraid to die. I'm not afraid to die anymore, not even a little bit. I was thinking about growing old in a rocking chair somewhere, and that sounded great. And then for a second, I thought that maybe I'd get hit by a bus crossing the street in front of a coffee shop for all the onlookers to see, with blood running out of my ears and nose. And then I thought about dying in my sleep next to my wife at age 37 of a brain aneurysm, with all the peace and quiet surrounding me. I had a thought that maybe I'd try to be a hero in some western-style shootout and jump in front of a bullet meant for someone else who was afraid of death. In any way, death is going to happen, with or without your permission or consent. I won't bear a grudge or feel cheated when I go. I won't feel cut short or look back and wish things had been different for me. I did it. I was alive. I really felt things with my skin and with my heart. I hope that the possessions I have left are few and not envied to be sold or stolen. Carry on as you have and be kind to one another. All I ask is that you don't bury my body in the ground for people to see for the next 500 years. I tried to avoid living in the past while I was alive, and I sure as hell don't want to live in the past when I'm dead. That's all a cemetery is, just another excuse to hold on to the past. And I'm ready to let go.