" *Terminal* is a harsh word when used in the context of death and not one we'd ever uttered aloud. But according to Webster's, it's also a place people pass through on their way to somewhere else. Deborah knew her "somewhere else" was heaven. She was just hoping the rain was delayed.

I scooped a tear off her cheek and tried to slip around her question. "We're all terminal," I said, smiling gently. "None of us makes it out of here alive. "

― Ron Hall , Same Kind of Different as Me: A Modern-Day Slave, an International Art Dealer, and the Unlikely Woman Who Bound Them Together