After Augustus Waters died, the novel continued for a few more chapters before it finally concluded. Even then, it didn't quite conclude per se. It just stopped.
And that's the way it is with life. Sometimes, a chapter of our lives comes to a conclusion, but it doesn't quite conclude. There is no more to be added or subtracted from it, for it has reached the end. Yet the story continues for a little while more in our hearts, and then it stops. Stagnates, but never quite leaves. There is nothing more to be said of it, nothing more that can be said that has not already been said. Still, it remains, flowing through our lives like blood circulates the body. Chapters never really end.
An interesting lovely quote from C.S. Lewis written to his goddaughter in the preface of The Lion, The Witch and The Wardrobe:
"I wrote this story for you, but when I began it I had not realized that girls grow quicker than books. As a result you are already too old for fairy tales, and by the time it is printed and bound you will be older still. But some day you will be old enough to start reading fairy tales again. You can then take it down from some upper shelf, dust it, and tell me what you think of it. I shall probably be too deaf to hear, and too old to understand a word you say, but I shall still be your affectionate Godfather."