The End of Possibilities

People die. That’s it. The End.

When I was 12 years old, I couldn’t imagine that life beyond the age of 55 would be worth living (I’ve written about this before, but it keeps coming up.) I forget now why I chose 55. My own grandparents weren’t that much older, though I guess I considered them pretty ancient. From the age of 12, those 43 years stretching to 55 look awfully long, and full of possibilities. I remember deciding that I wouldcommit suicide when I came to the end of those years. I...