Poor Johnny.

No, I shouldn't really say that; Despair never got her hook imbedded in your heart. Be thankful.

You died peacefully. In your sleep. I can't really say you were happy; as I picked you up, you worried for your parents, and for your friends.

You looked down on your body, looking like it was sleeping, with that turban wrapping your head up. You, your spirit standing next to me, looked like you were going to cry. "They'll miss me."

That they will. They look on your life, and they see so much promise. They'll ask themselves, or God, or their pillows, Why?

He had such a short while to live. He was so young. He had so much promise.

Johnny, you had a lifetime. That's what anyone gets. Somewhere in Destiny's book is written every detail of your life, everything. And it will now have a passage about your death. But it will not say anything about you having promise, or being too young to die. Because you had a lifetime.

But you were different. Or, different from many. You lived life to the fullest, savoring each day. I've escorted people who have walked among the gods, who used to be gods themselves, and so many of them took their long years for granted. Never to today what you could put off till tomorrow.

And so many of them regret it. They pause, and look down on the cold husks of the spirit, and wish they had been given more time. If only they had another year, another month, another week. They would have done this, that, and the other thing.

But you… you looked down on your sleeping, dead form, and you sighed, not for yourself, but for those who you left behind. You got to talk to Einstein, you go to graduate high school, you even got to love, if only briefly.

Desire really wanted to get you. But, as you deflected Despair's hooked ring, you denied yourself to desire, content to love.

Content to live. Live each day to the fullest.

Come, Johnny Gunther, Jr. Your time is done.