All Endings Aren't Beginnings

I'm coming to an end which should have been a beginning.
There is no open window adjacent to every closed door.
This door is more than closed.
It is locked and barred and barricaded.
I long for the day when I will no longer see even the outline of that door,
when not so much as a breeze blows under or through its frame.
I will not turn around.
I will not look back.
I remember Lot's wife:
hardened,
perhaps shattered,
and blown away;
only remembered
for one awful moment.
I will not look back.