"What does it feel to say goodbye?" asked John as he gasped for a shallow breath.

"You get used to it, darling," Jackie responded after a good few seconds. "There's an end to everything."

"Have you ever wondered what it's like to leave everything behind? Bringing nothing with you at the very end?"

"I sure did. But I stopped asking myself that," Jackie answered. "There's no use for such questions."

"Why?"

"You get used to it."

"It's funny how you always say that," responded John with a meek smile.

"Because that's the truth. Things come and go, and no matter how hard I tried there are simply things I cannot change."

"So why bother?" she continued. "Enjoy the present. Accept the things they are ... Remember that time when I bought you your first guitar?"

"Sure. I gave it to Tommy. Funny how time just flies by and before you know it, he's a grown man and he grew up just like me."

"But do you remember that one time you brought Tommy to Disneyland for his eighth birthday?"

"Sure."

"And I remember that guitar, and the first song I played for you," said Jackie. "And how happy you were. I tend not to ask too many questions and focus on the good things. Things that matter."

"But surely it's difficult to say goodbye to people you care about? What about dad?"

"Of course I miss him dearly. I still do. But I know that he left peacefully — and happily, knowing that he lived a life well-lived."

"Focus on the good things, yea?"

"Yes, darling. Remember the things that brought you joy, things that gave you purpose. Don't think about things you couldn't change. You know I am always proud of you." said Jackie as she placed her hands on John's, now weak and trembling.

John gave out a weak smile.

"I know that you will always be with me, and you know that I will always love you dearly," continued Jackie, a tear slowly making its way down her cheek. "It's always difficult to say goodbye, but we find reassurance in moments we shared."

"I am afraid," said John after a long pause. "I am afraid there's nothing on the other side."

"Don't be, darling," Jackie held John in her arms, "this is not the end; there's Tommy, and he has Delphine ... things will go on, whether we are here or not. But the times we had for each other — the moments we shared — will live on."

John went on smiling, slowly closing his eyes.

"Puff the magic dragon, lived by the sea ..." Jackie began humming softly and gently, stroking John on the head, his hair white and few, as he fell asleep one last time.

"What's this ticklish feeling?"

"Cold," I said. "It's natural."

"And this?" She pointed at her heart.

"That's your heart beating," I responded. "It's also natural."

And so it went, me explaining to her how everything is just a natural part of being human. Things we deem normal, mundane even, yet fresh and confusing for Rosie. Like any human, more questions arise when we find ourselves engulfed in uncertainty, always looking for answers as we are tangled in a myriad of emotions.

"And this?" She pointed to a drop of tear still dangling over the corner of her eyes, and I could feel it seeping through my shirt as she leaned against me, her head on my shoulder.

"That, is what we call a tear."

"So I am sad? And this is sadness?"

"There's also something called tears of joy."

"But how do I know which is which? Am I crying because I am sad? Or because I am happy?"

"Well, we also tend to smile if that's a tear of joy."

She then gave out a silly grin.

"No, not like that," I smiled. "Like this."

She smiled.

"I like how I used to answer your questions all the time," she said. "And now it's your turn."

That got me thinking.

"We are humans. We ask questions," I managed to give a semi-philosophical answer after a good few seconds. "And that also makes you human."

There we were. Our first time at the pier, looking out at the great north sea. I used to tell her how beautiful it is — the peace. The calmness. The gentle breeze at times. This was our first stop after I drove her from the lab, and I couldn't think of a better spot.

"Why I couldn't stop crying?" she asked absentmindedly, eyes staring into the blue horizon, seemingly lost in her thoughts.

"Because we feel things," I said. "I used to cry a lot when I was a kid. My friends would make fun of me."

"But I stopped. When I got older," I added. "Doesn't matter if I am sad or happy, I just couldn't cry."

"Is that a good thing?" she turned towards me.

"I don't know."

"I guess that's one answer we need to find out together," she smiled.

"Yes. We will."