I had spent the night sleeping in her bed as she lay across from me in a hospital bed. It was an unspoken message that the end, almost six months after the journey homeward started, was near. Every year around this anniversary, I feel the weight of time on my shoulders. Lucy was my last direct link to the carelessassumption that life would always go forward, and carry me with it. The end is coming, and there are many more stretches behind me than ahead of me on the journey.