The kindness of Goodbye

I understand the end, the stillness, the silence after breath. Dying, I’ve made peace with — a closing door, a final rest. But aging… that’s the part that stirs something quiet, something uneasy, in me. I see them — bodies bent by time, eyes that once danced now soft and slow, hands that once built dreams now tremble to hold a cup. They were young once, full of life, and now… the light flickers. Will I fade like that, too? Do we really need to grow old just to die? Can’t we stay whole, stay strong — and then simply go? Imagine being ninety, but still running through morning light, laughing without pain, loving without fear, dancing without the weight of years. Wouldn’t that be a beautiful way to say goodbye?