In certain circumstances, the end of the road can suddenly become clearly and undeniably visible. This type of vision is markedly different from the recurring fears triggered by anxiety throughout our lives. It's a powerful, final vision experienced by those suffering serious terminal illnesses such as cancer, or those whose health is rapidly and irreversibly declining due to the passage of old age. Let's assume you find yourself in this very scenario. Death is inevitably close. You still feel mentally healthy, content, and satisfied, having lived a full and accomplished life along its natural course. It's only your physical condition which now bothers you. Suppose no formal obligations remain. You've long since retired from your vocation, and your will has been carefully written out and safely preserved. Would you endure your final years of life physically deteriorating in a nursing home or hospital -- or choose to write your own final chapter, so to speak, while you're still cognitively able? Certainly a lot can change in over half of a century, but I'll try to look beyond those many years as if they'd be ending by tomorrow. The first thought which comes to mind is my irresistible affinity for the numbing, tingling, pain of the cold. In my twilight years, I can imagine my travels bringing me to the northernmost regions of the world. Perhaps I'll be enjoying my last meal in a cafe of a small town such as Inuvik, Canada. The weather report warns of an approaching blizzard, and I know it's time. Within the hour I've left the outskirts of town. I'm heading north, hiking into the hills and wilderness. I stop only briefly at the summit of a large hilltop, taking in the beauty of the surrounding forest. Much of the sunlight is being drowned out by clouds as I continue on. By nightfall, my walking pace has slowed considerably, and my breathing has become weak and shallow. When I can walk no further, I lay down to rest at the bottom of a small hillside. The moon and stars are no longer visible, and I begin to feel terribly overwhelmed by the silence and darkness. But then light snowflakes fall upon my face, and I no longer feel lonely or afraid. Tears stream down because Old Man Winter has come to take my hand and comfort me in my final hour.