Nothing.
The last drink has been drunk. The final call has been made. The work day is over. The dessert bowl has been all scooped, and re-scooped, and there is simply, no more left. What happens when it's all gone? Well, "it" as we use it, has to be defined, which for each of us, could really be anything. IT could be pleasurable, IT could be an achievement, IT could be love, IT could be hate, IT could be pain, IT really could be anything we give it power to be, but IT will come to an end, for anything as we know it to be, will cease to be. Like a blank piece of paper after all the work initially torn away, discarded, a part of ourselves, never to be seen again, however, built on, better. A sad and disgruntling thought as I ponder what I can then rely on. Can I rely on my daughter, no, for she will either grow and move on as I want her to, or she will suffer from the debilitating effects of the conclusion of the human condition, the diagnosis we all must face. C...