Are you afraid to die?

Never even think about it.
It's inevitable and we have no control over when or how -- unless you plan on committing suicide at a certain age -- so why worry.

 

I'm not afraid of death, but I'm afraid of suffering. And I'm afraid of losing quality of life.

 

Reminds me of two old (but good) one-liners:

1. It's not the dying part that bothers me. It's that you're dead for so long.

2. What would you like people to say about you when you die? "Look, he's moving."

Anyway, yeah, I must admit, I worry about this quite a bit. Seems to strike me most often right after I get into bed and I'm trying to fall asleep. I wonder if I'll ever wake up again.

I've found the best defense against this is to get rip-roaring drunk and pass out. Then you don't worry about anything. Just don't pull a John Bonham and over-do it ...

 

I have already told people that I want my tombstone to say "Are we absolutely sure?"

 

There's a concern, complete with daily reminder.

 

I'm not afraid of dying, but I'm terrified at the thought of my name not being in a certain book because of mistakes I've made.

 

That book would be empty if everyone's worst worries were true. I;m sure you have nothing to worry about

 

All I know is this: if the ghost stuff is true, and I can linger around, I'm going to have serious fun fucking around and scaring the shit out of stupid people.

 

I just have faith they'll find a cure for old age before I get there.

 

To quote Joe Diffie:
"Well I ain't afraid of dyin', it's the thought of being dead
I wanna go on being me once my eulogy's been read"

I'm not so much afraid of dying as much as someone missing me when I'm gone. We don't have any kids, so call me selfish, but I hope I buy it before my wife and friends. We had a story a few months back where some unmarried, no kids woman didn't show up for work one Monday. When co-workers called, no answer. Finally, after lunch, they went to her house and found her at the bottom of the stairs with a broken neck where she had been since Friday night it was determined. That scares me.
I know my name will live on because when some dude is scanning old newspapers 100 years from now they'll come across my by line even by accident.

 

Scared of getting older, that's for sure. Even now, just on the other side of 30, there are days where I feel like the culture has completely passed me by. I know that the college kids I cover look at me as old and out of touch. Not that they think that much about me specifically, but as a collective group. Sometimes I just want to scream, "I was you! Less than 10 years ago! We were such hot stuff, you wouldn't have believed it!"

What concerns me more than anything? A couple things:

1. Never finding my place. I've never necessarily wanted to be famous. But I've wanted to be important. And I worry about whether I'll be able to figure out what I can do to make my mark - and pray, basically, that I don't miss my calling. I'm jealous of a Barack Obama or John McCain, leaders who will go down in history. But I'm also jealous of writers like Tom Perrotta and Cormac McCarthy, who will leave something lasting and resonating behind (not putting Perrotta in McCarthy's league, understand ... but, well, you get what I'm saying). And great thinkers, too. Sometimes I feel like I should have pursued a PhD in philosophy, because I don't want to leave this world without having thought thoroughly and completely about what it means to be here.

2. The ending of the love story of my wife and I. She's my best friend and soul mate and sometimes it shocks me that we found each other in this big, huge, frightening world.

I don't have children yet, so I imagine that when that happens, it might force a reimagining of some of these thoughts.

 

You adopted the name of a guy who became a big winner after losing a coin flip. For those who don't know, Waylon Jennings lost a coin flip with Ritchey Valens for an airplane seat. According to Wikipedia, that wealth of information, during the early morning hours of February 3, 1959, the charter airplane carrying Buddy Holly, Ritchie Valens and J.P. Richardson (aka "The Big Bopper") crashed outside Clear Lake, Iowa, killing all on board. In his 1996 autobiography, Jennings admitted that in the years afterward, he felt severe guilt and responsibility for the crash. After Jennings gave up his seat, Holly had jokingly told Jennings, "I hope your 'ol bus freezes up!" Jennings shot back facetiously, "I hope your damn plane crashes!"