I just turned 66. I never had a “mid-life crisis” in my forties. But in 2019, when I was in a fabulous space as a Fulbright Specialist working in New Zealand, I experienced an enormous fear of death.
No reason. Nothing happened there that would have brought this on. But it overwhelmed me.
When I returned to the States, I did what many middle-class Americans would do: I sought help from a professional in psychological services. And, yeah, I was prescribed a drug that took the edge off.
Four years later, the thought of death has never left me. I often think of previous decades in my life when I simply lived and enjoyed the days, and I never thought of death. I was too busy planning for horse shows with my daughter. Or cheering on my son at Special Olympics. I miss those days.
Of course, death is one of the only certainties of life. And yet, we spend so much of our lives unaware of that fact. Even though there is much guidance about being aware of our finite time on earth in order to appreciate what we have, I must say that there is something quite blissful about being oblivious.
I am no longer oblivious. The events of seeing my relatives age and die, losing friends, and watching myself age makes the realization of death’s inevitability always present. In spite of that, I…
