The End is a long way from home

What is the perfect end? Specially when reading a book or a short story, I'm constantly dissatisfied with the final unraveling. I like fiction, but a great story is often ruined by its ending.

When a couple finally marries after a lifetime of fighting, what makes the reader trust these two will end up together? Most endings are incomplete until you do something so drastic, it's irreversible. Dying is a good example. You can't take that back.

What I'm saying is that "the end" is never final. There is always an open door to continue a story. Most of all, when the sense of closure comes entirely from trust in character.
Am I being pessimistic? No. Couples that break up on and on again are like that. The ending loses its meaning.
I like ironic ends because they reflect more closely the nature of real life. The unexpected car crash that makes a regular kiss, the last kiss. But I'm not advocating for tragedy either. Tragedies and love stories are too predictable.

I can recall one real endings in my life:
-Pamela and I had a great relationship years ago, entirely sex-driven. One day I lost my phone device and had to change my phone number. I never heard from her again. We both ignore on that last dinner, that it was going to be our last night together. I'm sure she is happy somewhere.

I'm sure there are more endings to be told, but at the time, I'm too oblivious/optimistic to recognize them.

No time for gravity. I'm too busy falling

I don’t think this happens to many of us: Waking up and realizing, “Oh, I’m floating in the middle of the sky at 6900 meters above ground. What now?” Well, Ewa Wisnierska’s story is incredible. Paragliding in England, she endured being sucked into a storm cell, and floating unconscious for 40 minutes, just to wake up mid-air, ice covered and falling. Yes, falling!
How she made it to firm land alive is another adventure, but for 40 minutes she survived lighting, melon-size hail and gravity.
I dare any of you to try to one up this woman.

Over the weekend I went camping to Joshua Tree and almost choked on a piece of chicken. How do I compare near-dead experiences with some one like Ewa? In the scale of “I almost died yesterday” stories, she is that elusive 11, right up there with, “I got eaten by a whale once.”
This got me thinking, “Is one’s dead comparable to one’s life style.” I mean, if one lives perilously, does said one deserve/merit an exciting dead. Steve Irwin, for example, he went out not choking on a piece of chicken. He’d have been pissed.

My good friend, Emily, says that there is a logical way to go for the likes of Jim Morrison or Hunter S. Thompson. They go mysteriously or with a bang.
I don’t want to hang the boots just yet, but the day I do, I hope it isn’t the most ridiculous, absurd occurrence.
So, just read on. One of these days I may electrocute myself writing a blog entry.