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I never realized so many people truly cared about me until now. My son is explaining to everyone how it all happened. For the first time, I can see the faces of people who genuinely loved me — and there are so many of them. More than a hundred have gathered here, around me, in my final moments.
Last night, I died of a heart attack. I had known this day would come sooner or later. I’d already survived three heart attacks and even undergone surgery. My chances had been slim, but I’m grateful I made it this far.
I see my only son and his wife crying quietly beside me. My grandchildren, Ashwin and Keerthi, sit close, their small faces streaked with tears. I think I’m going to miss these little ones the most. My days always ended with their laughter, their stories, and one of my bedtime tales. I wish I could tell them just one more story — but it’s too late now.
Every passing second, I feel something strange — a door slowly approaching me. On the other side, someone stands waiting. I can’t see the face clearly, and no matter how hard I try, I can’t reach the door. Yet, it keeps moving closer.
Amid the murmurs, I hear a familiar question — the one everyone asks when they enter the house: “How did this happen?”205Please respect copyright.PENANAR45VoloOE8
The tone in their voices tells me everything. It’s the sound of care, love, and disbelief. And somehow, it comforts me. Maybe this is the final question every human hears before leaving this world.
Soon, my body is taken to the cemetery, and the flames turn me into ashes. As the smoke rises, the door finally reaches me.
On the other side stands my beloved wife, smiling gently, holding a small piece of paper — a ticket, perhaps. She welcomes me with the warmth I’ve missed for years. I feel peace wash over me. I’m finally going home — reunited with her.
And in that moment, I know — I’ve fulfilled my duties in this world, and I’m proud of the life I lived.
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