We all knew what was coming at the end.  The story was always the same.  There might be a few who didn't know the true ending, but the effect would be the same for all of us.

 We listened.  John always tells the story in the most realistic way, even if his words were written last.

"Were you there?"  No, we weren't.  It isn't comprehendable.  But we try to understand and find meaning.

The candle is lit.  One light in a dark cave of wonder.  He would move to the back to finish reading the story.  One of his children there to hold the candle.

SLAM

That huge book.  Closed to all of us.  Closed as a flower.  A violent new beginning.  Death can be beautiful.

(Madri Gras is coming soon, which leads to this story.  It gave me chills to remember it again.  I know it's not yet that season, but it had to be told.)