The only time we truly lived was when we chose to die.
At 93 I laid on my deathbed, counting down on my inhalation and exhalation as I gladly awaited to breathe my last. My true love and companion gazed fixedly in my eyes as she blew me silent kisses of affection with her sweet voice that had become frail after her. I always had faith that such a day would be, yet as it came to pass I was in awe. I had witnessed the power of true love in a life-time, and in a moment, the time would arrive where death would do us apart.
The time had come for me to pass on the baton. So I asked my dear wife to gather my ‘seed’ by my bed, and with all my strength, I spoke my last words.
As I finished speaking, I came to a halt. My sons and daughters bid me farewell as I blessed each and every one of them in their great number.
Finally, I laid relaxed as my mind took me through brief clips of the conviction I lived. I concluded my thoughts and felt the lips of my true love on my own one more time; breathed my last and slowly faded into eternity. And now I rest in eternal peace.