I started my journey through Sandman around 10 years ago, when I was in 8th grade. I was very emo, beginning my first spiral into pre-diagnosis depression, and discovering comic books and manga for the first time. I knew a little of Gaiman through his work with Doctor Who and as the author of Coraline, although I never actually read it until earlier this year. But once I heard he had written a comic series with personified Death as a character, well, then I knew I definitely had to check it out. (I am still on my quest to read as many books featuring personified and sentient Death as possible.)
Always being a rather pretentious reader, I had to pick out volume 1 of Absolute Sandman to begin my journey. I remember cradling the massive tome, almost bigger than my torso - I am a very short person and it's surprisingly easy to find books almost half as tall as I am - on the way out of the library.
But I didn't finish the series until today. I couldn't do it.

Morpheus has never been my favorite Endless, although he was my second favorite for a while. Over time, especially during this most recent venture through, I've discovered his many flaws, both along with and outside of Gaiman's framework. He was an interesting, creative, often flawed, character, who I resonated with deep through my heart.
He is the king of dreams and stories, and I am but a writer, attempting to reach in and pluck them out.

There are times when fiction speaks louder than reality and stories build places to hide away from the truth. While I could name many other instances of books that I feel similarly about, Sandman has has one of the longest journeys with me. While this is not the end of my time with the series - there are still many more collections of short stories and one-shots for me to track down, read, and collect - this is the end of Sandman, the conclusion I've been ignoring for close to a decade.
But at least I - at least we all - could attend the wake.