by Roz Burak

The good thing about turning 70 is you’re too old to die young.

I don’t remember thinking about dying the way I do now.  It seems like everything is a reason to think about dying, 

I don’t mean to make this maudlin — it’s just interesting, I bought new drinking glasses While putting them away I began thinking about what will happen when I die?  Is someone going to want them?  Should I decide who should get them?  OMG, they’re just drinking glasses, Who Cares!!!!

Sometimes I pet Wlly and start to think about what will happen to him if I die?  Who’s going to take him?  Will they take good care of him? Etc, etc.. 

I finally realized it’s one of the glorious realities that come with turning 70.  Suddenly the end is real.  It’s very strange.  I began to think about when I’m not here anymore.  What about the people who depend on me — what about the people I depend on?  It’s like the prism moved and I’m seeing life through a new filter.    Kind of like the middle is gone and I’m heading toward the end.  Oy vey.