Thoughts that Make Me Go "YIKES!"

Quinn has been very intrigued of late about ages, dying, and getting old.  He's been wondering how long he will live.  Don't know WHY this particular thing is rattling around his six year old brain, but... it is what it is.  I told him to assume 100 years, if he took care of himself, ate healthy, exercised regularly, and didn't smoke. Oh, that's right.  This all started because he was worried that the steak we were eating for dinner would cause heart disease.  I think he's safe, and told him so.  Anyways... he wanted to know how old the oldest person was, so I looked it up.  Jeanne Calment of France (1875–1997), who died at age 122 years, 164 days.  Just so y'all know.  Then he wanted to know the YEAR he would turn 100.  Cogwheels turning, and we came up with the number.  2104.  HOLY COW.  REALLY??!?!  Then he wanted to know if I was alive way back in 1997, when Jeanne Calment died.  YUP.  I was 25.  He was astounded that I wasn't even a KID way way back then.  So then he asked what year I was born, and I told him.  And what year would I turn 100?  Answer, 2072.  Wow.  (As a side note, I am listening to Pandora as I type this, and you would never guess what song just came on.  Five for Fighting's "100 years".  No way.  That's weird.  Anways, I digress. )  So then he wanted to know how old HE would be in 2072, and we calculated again... 68.  That's younger that Grandma and Grandpa Aho, but older than Grandma and Grandpa Patterson.  Then he wanted to know HOW a person dies... like what physically stops working.  And if the heart stops beating, how long it takes before you die.  And if the heart beats really really fast, can that make you die, too?  And how does a pacemaker get in a person's heart?  And does Grandma LaVerne 's pacemaker go right into her heart?  How does it attach INSIDE her heart without hurting her heart?  And what happens when the batteries die?  This again morphed into a conversation about the location of heaven, which I have yet to give a good answer on.  I deferred to Dad, who threw the question right back at me.  Thanks. 

At the end of this whole dialogue, he said simply "I wish Aunt Dorothy would've lived to 100.  I miss her".

HMMM.

I do, too, Quinn.... I do, too.