Men fear death as children fear to go in the dark; and as that natural fear in children is increased by tales, so is the other.

Much of what frightens you about dying is not the thing itself but the stories that have collected around it, the way a dark room stays an ordinary room until someone describes what might be waiting in it. The fear is natural and does not need arguing away. A good deal of its size, though, is borrowed: inherited dread, overheard scenes, images you never chose to carry.

When the fear arrives, try separating what you actually know from what you were told. Saying the plain part out loud to someone you trust takes some of the weight off. Company has always been the oldest remedy for the dark.