It brings me joy to think of my life coming to an end; it is a relief to know it will.

A pause descends when I sense the pain loved ones would experience when I do die (I assume they would feel something). But that is all that troubles me about my death.

This is not some morbid fantasy of inboxes overflowing with emails I would never read or respond to, of people sharing touching eulogies over a pretty casket, of whatever afterlife the other side of death might offer.

This is not that.

I simply do not want to live forever.

I am glad this body of mine is imperfect, earthbound, and breakable; I cherish my mind and soul but look forward to relinquishing them; I do not wish to carry this burden of life indefinitely.

Today I give thanks that I, too, shall pass.