I came across this quote today: "I'd hate to die twice. It's so boring." Supposedly, it was said by Richard Feynman on his deathbed. Death, boring? Really? It seems like it could be many things-- terrifying, enlightening, confusing, a lesson in letting-go. But boring? I can't imagine that.
Right now, I'm working on a novel about organ transplant. One of the characters, a teenaged boy waiting for a liver transplant, has a hobby of writing his own obit. What would his deathbed words be? How about mine? Hopefully, a deep, contented sigh.
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