Departures

My wife and I were having this discussion as we walked through the woods the day before my birthday: "If you could know in advance the date and time of your ultimate demise, would you really want to know?" She was happy with the notion that she would have some warning. I disagreed. Once I had a piece of information like that, I would do nothing but fret about it. Not that death isn't worth fretting about, but I'm pretty sure that there is no amount of time in advance of that announcement that would make me comfortable. Negotiations would begin immediately upon receipt of such news.
It's a little odd, since most of the time I am anxious to learn as many details as possible about upcoming events and commitments. I will drive to the bus station the day before I have to pick somebody up just to make sure that I know the route. Why wouldn't I want to do the same thing when it's time to meet my maker? Upon reading the question over my shoulder, my son announced that he would be happy to know when he was going to have his ticket punched, since that meant that he could take all manner of ridiculous chances leading up to that final exit. The idea of predetermination was a freeing one for him. Maybe that's because he's fifteen, not fifty.
Many moons ago, a therapist told me that all relationships end. Eventually somebody's got to go, even if it's to the great beyond. My initial response was to shy away from any and all relationships. If you never take a chance, you never have to worry about the consequences. For now, I'm laboring under the assumption that I will be the one who bucks this trend, and sticks around forever. Of course, now I'm worried about being bored for eternity. It's what I do.