The End

"I wish it would never end!" That's what an author wants to hear about his book. It's also what a guy likes to hear from his date. To be honest, I have never heard those words. Regardless, the end of a story, like life, doesn't need to be dramatic. The story has been written.

If it is indeed a good story, like a good life, there is no real end. Both will stay with you. Both are everlasting.

My mother, at 95, had her eyes closed all morning. Her breathing was uneasy and uneven. My brother and I knew the time had come. We spoke honestly with love to her. Told her how much she had done for us over the years. I said things I should have all along. In my defense, we weren't raised to openly discuss our emotions. Love was felt and understood. I was, and still am a little amazed by people who profess their love for each other upon entering and leaving a room.

I leaned down close to her face and told her it was alright. She could go. Our mom slowly opened her eyes, looked at me and asked, "Where am I going?" My brother gave me a quick glance as I burst out in laughter. "Nowhere mom, not now."

She passed away two days later, alone in her room at the nursing home. I know she wasn't truly alone. I also know our words with her at the end.