I think what he saw three years ago was his own death. Not his absence -- I'm sure he'd imagined that many times -- no: death's presence. The death that was his. The death that was him. So I said, maybe when he saw the end, that was the end: it knocked him down, and he stayed there. They think he should have bounced back up, fought this thing, raged against the dying of the light. I don't. I think that's when the light went out. I think there are things we can't talk back to, fight with, even answer; things that take us, merely, whether we kick and scream or not.
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