Lately, the only serious reason why I have been somewhat worried to die is my 8 y-o daughter.
We discuss that sometimes.
Tonight she showed me a "poem" she wrote. I was dead and she was remembering me. It was incredibly beautiful, loving and peaceful. I was stunned.
All by herself she had found the only way time and death could be overcome -- that is, cheated. Call it writing, poetry, art -- she knows where it is. I am relieved, and grateful.