I was about five or six the first time I heard my mom say, “I’m glad I won’t be around to see it.” I didn’t understand what she was saying. Nonetheless, it felt ominous and unsettling. I let it go.
I’m not sure when I heard it the second time, phrased slightly differenlty: “I won’t be alive when … .”
I don’t remember what the “when” was. It didn’t matter.