I had a serious motorcycle accident in my early 40s. It was the kind that usually results in death, but I got off easy with a shattered collarbone, two broken ribs, and some road rash. I remember the initial impact and then lying on my back looking up at the sky, but nothing else. That nothing made me realize what death would be like, and it freaks me out. Thinking about how someday I’ll just stop existing fills me with immense dread. I understand why some people are religious, it gives them an alternative to that dread.

Perhaps I won’t always feel this way.