He was physically tired, weak, just couldn't carry on. But he felt himself mentally to keep fighting. Stan wasn't sure why. He's 95, at right age of where he has seen so much and done so many things. Creating a world of his own, bringing characters to life that people could admire, cheer for, relate to, and get hope from. He was grateful for Jack Kirby, his wife, his daughter, the Russo brothers, the actors of the MCU and X-men, and for his fans. They were the reasons he had strived everyday of his breathing life, to give the a story they could never forget. But, as try as he may, with his daughter holding his weak hand, death was inevitable. Stan almost smiled at the thought. It was funny how he even personified death itself. With the last bit of strength he had, Stan squeezed his daughter hand one last time, and slowly turned to her. Her eye were puffy, face red, cover in streaks of tears
“Don't cry, it was bound to happen. Do not grieve for me.” He wanted to say to her, to everyone who he knows, and those he was glad to given the chance to meet, and to the fans that he hoped that will change the world for the better, just like the heroes of his stories.
So, as a final act of sediment, Stan gave the best smile he could, and whispered, ”Excelsior.” Then, all was quiet, his world turned dark, and he knew no more. Stan Lee was taken from our world.