While lying on her bed and wringing in pain
she held my hands with her soft, frail hand and said to me

 "what really is life"?
I looked tearfully into her eyes and answered
"It's a place where our stories begin."

She signed deeply and released my hands
pain and agony were written all over her 
she exhaled deeply and said to me

"what exactly is death"?
I wiped the tears that rolled down my face and said
"it's a place where our stories end"

She closed her eyes and said 
this is where my own story ends
and with that, she remained still.
I looked at her and shook my head
Another unfinished story, another untold tale.