I cried while listening to the following few sentences, watching the last scene from Desperate Housewives a couple of months ago.
I couldn’t help but feel sad and yet hopeful.
Thinking of my uncle today, on what would’ve been his 55th birthday…
Slightly altered spoiler if you read further.
… she had a feeling she was being watched. And she was. The ghosts of people who had parted were gazing upon her as she passed. They watched her, as they watched everyone, always hoping the living could learn to put aside rage and sorrow, bitterness and regret. These ghosts watch. Wanting people to remember that even the most desperate life is: oh, so wonderful.
