I can't believe it. I knew that Mom would die first; she wasn't a Saiyan. But losing Dad a few months later?

He always used to tell me that a Saiyan warrior lived for a long time, forever even. I guess forever is a loose term now. In its entirety, eighty-two years isn't forever, not even close. Ephemeral is more like it.

I look down at my sister, but she's holding in her tears, hiding her emotions. Dad taught her how to do that. Will Bra teach her children? Probably not. It's not really important, I guess, for everyday life.

Almost everyone made it to the funeral. Goku and Chichi; Gohan, his wife, their two daughters and their husbands; Goten, his wife and their twins; Marron and her fiancée; even Piccolo and Dende managed to come.

They all share their condolences with my sister and me, but they're far from comforting. Nothing will bring him back now. He's dead, the last of his kind wiped away like a grey smudge on paper. Sure, Goku's still alive, but he has no memory of Vegeta-sei. No one does now.

As they walk past Dad to pay their last respects, one of Goten's twins peeks into the casket. Does he know that he's gazing upon the body of his Prince? He's only a child, only one-fourth Saiyan. His children will be one-eighth Saiyan. Their children will be one-sixteenth, and so on.

Will they know their heritage, their history? Who will remember that an entire race existed once—a proud race that reigned over another planet, that had people, traditions, customs? It's all gone now, dead and gone, like it never even existed.

I close my eyes, only for a moment, and the moment's gone

All my dreams pass before my eyes, a curiosity

Dust in the wind, all they are is dust in the wind

As I get out of my car to visit Mom's grave, I see Daddy standing over the plot. There's something different about him. He looks older, worn out. I can see his strong shoulders sagging, carrying a burden far too heavy to bear. It's not natural for a Saiyan to look old at eighty-one.

He places a bouquet of forget-me-nots down beside the tombstone. The tiny blossoms are so delicate, butterflies resting, ready to take flight at a moment's notice. Next to them, yesterday's bouquet rests, already dying in the cold autumn weather. I guess it's too much to ask for something to last forever.

I know he senses me, but he doesn't turn around. I stand next to him, staring at her grave, thinking of when Mom and I used to go shopping together, our trips to the spa, when she'd help me with my homework. My oldest child is four. Will he remember his grandmother, when she used to hold him and take care of him? No, he's too young still. All he'll have are photos, and even those will fade with time.

Life's funny like that. Will my grandchildren remember me? Will my ancestors a hundred years from now sit around the fire and talk about my life? Of course not. We only live for a short time.

Mom's gone for good now, for forever. I stand over her tombstone, a cold, grey slab of marble. Again, I hold in my tears as I pay my respects to her. I'd like to believe that I'll come here every day, but in my heart I know that every day will turn into once a week, a week into a month, until I forget to visit at all.

The wind blows harshly and I scoot closer to Dad for warmth. The tombstone doesn't move, and it won't for a long time. I know it won't stay forever, though. How long will it take before the wind chisels it away, leaving nothing behind?

Same old song, just a drop of water in an endless sea

All we do crumbles to the ground, though we refuse to see

Dust in the wind, all we are is dust in the wind

That idiot woman. Even Kakarott knows that no one can live forever. Why is she upset about this ridiculous disease? I sit down next to her and let her cry on my shoulder. Her frequent tears soon have my shirt soaked, but it doesn't matter.

Do all humans view death as an enemy? The Saiyans used to believe that death was another part of life, one more step for us to make before we were at peace. Shouldn't she be happy for another chance at life in another world?

Why does she insist on crying? The blasted doctors have done all they could. Money only goes so far. The only thing that she wants now she cannot have. Ironic, isn't it? No amount of money in the world can buy a human forever. I'm beginning to wonder, though, if forever even exists. Is it possible to live forever anywhere?

I'll find out soon enough. As soon as she's gone, I will follow. That is the way Saiyan bonds work. I've never told the woman, but Saiyan bonds link our lives together for…forever.

Damn! There's that word again! A simple word, that's all it is, yet earthlings choose to wrap themselves in its warmth and happiness. Love forever? Live forever? Certainly, we will always be alive in the hearts of our friends.

Bah. Do they not realize that their friends don't live forever? They will die, too, and soon all memory of their lives will wash away with the tide of a new generation. It has been this way for thousands of years, and it is the one thing that will remain unchanged for thousands more.

Earthlings don't know that we die in more ways than one. First our physical being, then our memories. Soon we are reduced to nothing. No one will miss us. No one will pray for us. It is then when we are truly dead.

Forever is only so long.

Don't hang on, nothing lasts forever but the earth and sky

It slips away, and all your money won't another minute buy

Dust in the wind, all we are is dust in the wind

The doctor walks in and sits across from me. "Well?" I ask hopefully, but I can already see his apprehension.

"The results came back positive, Bulma. I'm so sorry."

Dust in the wind, everything is dust in the wind….

That song was "Dust in the Wind" by Kansas.