An old man’s bones creak as he lays down in his bed. His muscles sore, eyes blurry, and ears almost deaf. He thinks of many friends and family, now dead. Nearing the end himself, he reflects on days past, remembering the good times that filled his heart and the bad times that made him grow. He has grown to be a decrepit old man, yes, but he has also grown to become a being that fears nothing, not even the looming end; whatever form that may take.