By MARGO JOHNSON As I watched a sunset one evening, I realized sunsets serve as a passing, an ending, a completion, and this brought to my mind the commonalities of death and sunsets. Will my death be a soft sunset, a raging storm sunset, a brightly hued sunset, a cloudy sunset, or one that simply ends with no clouds to color the horizon, and I will just drift off into the darkened sky? Death marks a passing, one I’m not necessarily trying to rush toward, but the sun is certainly headed toward the evening horizon at a quicken pace these days.