Death I'm going to die. Everyone knows that he or she will die, but I think, when we are young, it is hidden in the back of our minds, or at least it was for me. The entire concept has really just hit home in the past few months (what Frank Herbert would call the "sudden realization of my own mortality"), and I find myself preoccupied with the concept. I'm going to die. How strange that concept it is, to not exist. At times I can't wrap my head around it, and yet it's always there. I look down at my hands, the same hands that have served me all my life, and I can't help but imagine how they will look in 50 years. Will I be lying in a hospital bed, hooked to an oxygen tank, and awaiting my last breath while I study these same hands, now wrinkled, loose, and dying? I see an old person on the street, and I am suddenly struck with a profound sense of loss. I wonder at all the things they've seen and done. The many things they've figured out over years of struggle. And then I realize that the experience, wisdom, and feelings they carry will never really be known to anyone else. To spend an entire lifetime learning and growing, only to have it all disappear in an instant. I'm going to die. And what's strange to me, is that it doesn't seem to bother some people, and I don't know if that's because they haven't really contemplated it yet, or because they have, and have ended up at some conclusion that I can't come to grips with. Do you struggle with death?