I have often entertained such gloomy thoughts myself, being over 70 with no children. Why not simply duct-tape a plastic bag over my head and take a few sleeping pills? And it may yet come to that, especially if Putin pushes the red button… But then I remember the hummingbird which I saw joyfully drawing delicious nectar out of a hanging fuchsia plant during last summer’s apocalyptic heat wave when the temperature here in Oregon skyrocketed to an ungodly 114 degrees F. Like me and you, the hummingbird is doomed, but he had no angst about the future, because he had no language with which to imagine something like “the future.” He lived entirely in the present moment, enjoying every life-giving drop of fuchsia nectar. And he thus reminded me of an essential truth: the present is all there is; the past is just a memory, and the future, just a mental formation, a linguistic construct. And while life is impermanent for all of us, it is sacred, while it lasts. So I’ve turned over the responsibility for my inevitable demise to God, fate, the Great Spirit, or the great karmic unfolding of the universe, and while I live and breathe, I will strive to do what I know is right, moment to moment, with as much wisdom and compassion as I can muster. Hope this helps!