It is coming. Soon. It is no respecter of persons. I believe on one level that I will live forever in paradise.
On some other level, or from some very human place, I can't believe that one day I'll leave my body, my loved ones, the trees and sky and football and squirrels and my bedroom. I can't believe that I will never take another breath, another shower, laugh again, read stuff, use my chainsaw. Death happens to you and I'm really sorry about that. Death can't happen to me because I can't die. All of this must continue someplace, somehow; life is too important once you've lived. It cannot simply end. That can't make sense. To love and to think and to see and to ask questions about the meaning of it all are all way to important not to continue inside of us who have lived.
Sometimes I can't wait for paradise, to emerge in a sparkling beautiful new world. Other times I really cannot fathom that soon I will be dead.