What can you say to the dying? I always wonder what is left of our lives when we leave them. We all stand around him, mute and unconvinced that his body is failing. His wife of 60 years has decided that she will follow him. The world is full of sorrow she claims and she wants to be done. No more life, no more tears, no more and she pushes her hands out in a gesture of defiance. They have both lived so long. Are we the secret? The generations that follow them, who can remember a gesture? Will I have to be a memory keeper? Perhaps there is nothing to say to the dying, but to listen and hear a life. To know the passions, hopes, and dreams that will never be again represented by such a being. I just could not say goodbye. I could only look into his darkening eyes and try to remember him.