To answer the revival question, I have no feelings regarding my own mortality. What I say to myself if that I've had a great life-- thrills, chills, passions, upsets, escapes-- it's all there in the steadily softening gray matter. I still do the things I've always enjoyed, and make sure that my family knows that if I die being eaten by a mountain lion (incidents are increasingly common here) I died doing something I enjoy (wilderness trekking).
I'll race you to 50, BM. March, for me. One of the coolest things about reaching this age is that I've done a hell of a lot of stuff. I've had personal triumphs as well as setbacks, so I really do feel if I were to vanish through whatever cause, I have lived a neat life. Back in my teens and twenties, there were so many things I wanted to do. Now, in my late 40s, I've done a great number of them, as well as the unexpected things that came up because life did not follow my script. This backlog of memories is one of the pleasures of being an old codger.
Good luck with the writing, BM. It's one of those things that gets better with age, I think. Cheers!