I used to be afraid of dying when I was young and into my teen years. Then came Vietnam! I survived being shot down 3 times and rescued. On two occasions, I had to destroy my plane to keep it from falling into the wrong hands (at the time, there was a million dollar reward to anyone who would give the enemy some of the equipment onboard). I survived Vietnam and 6 months at Walter Reed Army Hospital in Washington, DC, getting patched up. Then, I got caught underneath a haybaler on our ranch with a needle through my sleeve and my arm pinned so that I couldn't get out. And, five years ago, I survived a stroke and gangrene, that almost took my life. I came away with the attitude that if I was to spend the rest of my life worrying about dying, I'd have a short life. I figured it this way: I've survived more than most have, and when it is my time to go, I'll go, and there isn't one thing I can do about it, so why give myself an ulcer worrying about it! :angel: