The beauty brought tears to my eyes, for it reminded me that ends could be beautiful, but they were always followed by beginnings. I couldn’t know what beginnings were in store for me in a life without Gabriel, a life without Josiane. But I understood, gazing out at the brilliant western sky, that I couldn’t live my life staring at only the endings. I needed to look east, toward each new day. The future never looks the way we expect it to, Monsieur Rochefort had said, but that doesn’t mean it can’t be beautiful.
