1As I sat there on the bench, my mind could only process one thought. Finny wasn't dead. He couldn't be. There was no earthly way that Phineas could have died. Fail a math test, sure, but die? Die on the operating table? That wasn't a suitable end for a boy with such life in his blood.
But it was his blood that killed him.
His own lively blood that carried bone marrow straight to his heart. And suddenly it occurred to me: this was the perfect death for Finny.For all intents and purposes he was not a cripple; he had not yet surrendered to the truth. And as much a dare-devil as he was, I was quite certain that he was afraid of death. No one could ever beat Finny, but death would beat us all eventually.
As this thought turned over in my head, I realized why Phineas was such a careless person. If he was going to die, he wanted it to be on his own terms, doing something that he loved, not wasting away in a hospital somewhere. I hope your happy, Finny. You never knew that you died. You didn't get sick, or mortally wounded, and it was as dramatic and unexpected a death as you could have ever hoped for.