I'm incredibly sad to find out Terry Pratchett, possibly my favorite fantasy author, finally passed away. Went into the endless desert. Left early to avoid the rush. Kicked the bucket.
I find this passage relevant:
‘Goodbye,’ Mort said, and was surprised to find a lump in his throat. ‘It’s such an unpleasant word, isn’t it?’
QUITE SO. Death grinned because, as has so often been remarked, he didn’t have much option. But possibly he meant it, this time.
I PREFER AU REVOIR, he said.