About 13 years ago…   Endings have a strange, circular way of feeling like beginnings. This was the beginning of an end. I lay in what some call final repose. Was I at peace with my death? In many ways, yes: I believed I deserved it, for having ruined the lives of so many I loved. Conversely, my loves lived on. My son would be alone without me, and the world continued its inexorable march toward an unknown destination: The end of times? The final solar showdown? Stardust?   Whatever it was, I would no longer be part of the journey.   Some of the dying feel peace, they say.…