It's astonishing how much we think about death when we are old. I think about it approximately as much as I thought about sex when I was in my 20s.
Because I am having such a wonderful retirement I wonder why this is.
When I was young I dreamed of being a musician. That didn't happen but I had a great life anyway. Now in retirement, of the things I fill my days with, most of them are musical. I even get paid for it from time to time.
The other day it occurred to me, "Oh. I'm a musician."
What was that about dreams coming true?