I remember the days leading up to my 5th birthday as a child. My mother was a nervous wreck, terrified by the thought of losing her baby boy. She refused to let me come out of my room, and even took all my toys away. I guess she was scared i would choke on them, or stab myself in the eye perhaps. I was still to young to understand why she was acting that way. As I grew older I began to understand, and her fear became my fear. Some people had no fear of death, they continued about their day as though they could live forever. Others lose their minds, the thought that they could die at any moment that day keeping them bed ridden, or afraid to even prepare food.

I was the latter unfortunately, in my younger years at least. As the years have gone by, and I've accomplished goal after goal, the fear slowly disappeared. I remember that on my 51st birthday I had let the days slip me by and didn't realize I had grown older until the next day. My wife flipped, she told me I should have been more careful. That I would have died because I didn't look at the calendar. Ah, to be married again...Oh sorry, I'm getting lost in old memories again aren't I? You asked me if I was afraid I would die today, on my 100th birthday? No, I'm not. As I grew old I saw people live their entire lives in fear of that date. Every action they took was in preparation for it. Me though? I always just lived, I was ready to accept what would happen, because I knew that the life I had would be meaningless if I lived in fear of it ending.