When they found me, I was unconscious, lying next to my mother. Her skin was very pale against the red carpet. You mightn't have noticed the oddity of a red carpet where we lay on account of the urge to try and save our lives, but it hadn't been very long, and it was still wet. Then the stark contrast between the carpet everywhere else and directly underneath us would be very apparent. You might've gasped. Your eyes might've traveled slowly up from the red carpet, all the way to the back of my mother's head. And then you might've screamed.
This is not a ghost story. It is not a tragedy. This is just my story, and until I died, it was a happy one. Everybody dies eventually, but the lives they lived are still full of stories, and most of them are never told. I love to tell stories, so here is mine. Just, please remember, although death is an end, it not The End.
This was my story. I still think it was pretty happy. I lived and loved well, and was well loved. What more could I ask for? Perhaps my ending came a bit sooner than yours will, but everything ends. And new things, new lives, new stories are always beginning. My life has ended, but my story lives on. So I won't say "the end." I will simply say, "Goodbye."