The end is always sad. Always empty. Always difficult to understand, difficult to accept, difficult to swallow. And yet, the end is always a new beginning… On the other hand, and at least to me, it always comes as a surprise. Don’t know if it is because I am blind or because I pretend to be blind, or simply because I am not lucky. But the surprising aspect doesn’t make it easier. And, this time, it came by phone and from far away. It should make it softer, and yet it doesn’t… What I hate the most in these occasions is the quietness that follows… this quietness that keeps us awake when we should be sleeping, and keeps us thinking of what could have been done differently when we should be moving ahead. And I also hate the loneliness… the loneliness that wears us out and makes us feel lost, like if we had just woke-up from a dream. It is commonly accepted that it is easier to leave than to be left behind; although I am not sure that this is right, the true is that I can’t avoid the feeling that there were other options… that I could have changed, if needed. Fortunately, or unfortunately, now it is time to prove that I can do it, that I can change. And that’s exactly what I’ll do. Once I manage to get myself together again.