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| - Ending the Ending At the end of the day Art had come back to his home to find his home burned down. After he had gotten over the shock of it, he turned to ask, "Dad, where's mom?" His dad hugged him. "Son, your mom's not going to be coming back home today." "What? Why?" "All you need to know is that she'll be away for a while." "Dad, when's she coming back?" "Not for a very long time." "I want to see mom, now," Art said. His dad sighed. Listen, son, I need you to act all grown up, you understand? Since mom's not going to be here to take care of you." "No," Art said, turning to look away. "Where's—"
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| abstract
| - Ending the Ending At the end of the day Art had come back to his home to find his home burned down. After he had gotten over the shock of it, he turned to ask, "Dad, where's mom?" His dad hugged him. "Son, your mom's not going to be coming back home today." "What? Why?" "All you need to know is that she'll be away for a while." "Dad, when's she coming back?" "Not for a very long time." "I want to see mom, now," Art said. His dad sighed. Listen, son, I need you to act all grown up, you understand? Since mom's not going to be here to take care of you." "No," Art said, turning to look away. "Where's—" "Arthur." Art turned back, frown on his face and tears forming. "Why can't she come back? What are you not telling me?" His dad hung his mouth open. Art repeated, "tell me!" "She's passed away. Art, mom's dead." "What does that mean?" asked Art, but even as he asked, the tears flowed, and he gripped his dad's arms. "What's it mean, she's dead? Dad, what happened?" "It means, it's just us two now." Tears in his eyes, his dad wrapped Art's head in his arms. Art snuggled against his chest, sobbing into his plain white shirt. "Just us." For a long while they held their embrace. Finally his dad leaned back and looked at Art with a thin smile, then wiped away the tears on Art's cheeks. "Art, you're a big boy now. Boys don't cry. Come now, your tears are getting on our clothes. Do you know how much it costs to buy a new one?" Art let go and wiped away his tears. "You were crying too." "You're right, I was," said his dad, and Art chuckled, even as more tears flowed down his cheeks. "I'm glad I still have you, dad. You're going to stay with me forever, right? You're—" His dad chuckled. "Yes—" "—not going to be dead one day too, right?" said Art, staring up at him. His dad's smile wavered. "Right, dad?" His dad didn't answer. Art shuddered. "Oh no. Not you too, dad. I can't stand to lose you. Why would you ever want to be dead?" "Son, no one wants to die." "Then why does anyone die?" "It's not our choice, Art. Everyone dies, sooner or later." "Everyone dies?" asked Art. His dad stared at him, silent. Art shook his head, then shook his head some more. "No. It can't be. Dad, you told me that if someone ever beats me up, I have to fight back. Girls can just cry, but boys have to do whatever they can to defend themselves." "Yes, and you damn well should, or they'll just keep on hitting you." "So why hasn't anyone done anything about this dying thing? Why hasn't anyone fought back?" "I said only fight back if you're being bullied by someone your own size, otherwise you must run away. Does death look like a bully your own size?" "No, but you said we can't run away from death, so it's not like we have any choice but to fight back." His dad snorted at him and shook his head. "Look at you, just heard about death a moment ago and already you're thinking about fighting it." He patted Art on the head. "You're young, son, there's many things you don't know." "You keep saying that," said Art, arms akimbo. "Everything is born, lives, then dies. It's the way things are. Sooner or later it catches up to everyone. No one can avoid dying forever. No one can fight death." "Well has anyone even tried?" "Many have. But they have all died, in the end."
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