I want to write a story to this song, but I have a feeling it would result in my friends having an intervention in my honor, thinking that they are trying to stop me from ending it all. But I can't get the song out of my head. Maybe it doesn't have to be a song about the end of a life now without value. Perhaps it could be a celebration to a life lived well and compared to the life you have lived, the final days of it seems to be without value. Death just seems to be running a bit late for your appointment. That sort of thing could happen to the best of us. You have probably been late so many times in your life you're unable to count them. So who could blame Death for showing up late? An unscheduled bus crash or a suicide bomb might lead to a re-scheduling in the reaping business.

But as you lie in wait for your final, well-deserved, breath you look back at the endless stream of memories that have been stored in your brain throughout your life. Some of them have been hidden away from you for years, but as it is all drawing to a close and you seem to have time on your side -- at least for a while longer -- even those old once forgotten images, sounds and perhaps even smell and feeling come back to you.

Some of your memories will be happy and some will be sad. You are most likely not the first one around you to die. The ones you've loved and now are lost might be seen again. They might not, but you will still in a sense at least come closer to them in that you will share the same state they're in. If you are truly satisfied with your life, you will most likely have sad memories. Otherwise it would be hard to come to the conclusion that life has in all been good to you. Because let's face it; no one's life will ever be 100 percent happiness. But is the sad memories are over-shadowed by the good ones, you will hopefully feel happiness when you look back.

And not only happiness, but also completion. You look back and you are satisfied with what you have accomplished. Of course there might have been a few more things you could have accomplished but compared to the important things they are not significant enough to make you feel unhappy.

And when that door finally open and it's not the nurse or a doctor or a family member, but your escort, perhaps you even make a little joke about the late arrival. By your hand you're led away into light or darkness, into eternity or nothingness. And you are fine no matter what.