No.
Because I'm not a child anymore.
Nothing happens to you when you die. You cease to exist, exactly how it was before you were born.
And what has this responsibility given you?
Will you define your life in terms of existential labor, the fading joys of family and friends, the quicker flicker of personal gratification, or a grim satisfaction that whichever of these paths you choose, you are the master?
At least the master until the mind leaves, the body dries, and you, I, all of us take that next step to the grave.
Will you declare, "It was fun while it lasted?" Perhaps, although, the many who say so, seem to never believe it for a moment when you really know their hearts.
Especially the more they understand the age old game. The more intelligent become more cruel trying to satiate that thirst, the more knowledgeable sadder still, but, at least we can say, or hope... we are all grown up... to see nothing, nihil, because none of us are really the master of anything beyond whatever flawed dreams inspire us.