At this point on stage, Hamilton appears next to Eliza, much to her happiness and amazement, as if this is the moment of her death. In fact, after the final note fades, the last sound heard is Eliza’s gasp—perhaps her last breath, or her joy at her dying vision of Alexander waiting for her—as the theater goes dark.

By the end of the show, the title, Hamilton, refers to Eliza Hamilton as much as Alexander Hamilton. It opened by describing Alexander’s birth, so it’s appropriate for it to end with the death of Eliza, the one who told so much of both of their stories.

As the New Yorker describes it: ‘In the show’s final moment, he motions Eliza to the lip of the stage, where she steps beyond him and takes the light. The last image we see is of her awestruck face, gazing out into some blissful beyond.‘ I’m not crying, you’re crying.

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In this song, Eliza becomes the extradiegetic narrator (lit. narrating from outside the world of the story). So in a way, she is literally looking out into the theater and seeing the crowds of people that have come to see and hear her and her husband’s story in this amazing play that’s being performed for packed audiences and turning the entire world of theater on its head. THEY’RE TELLING YOUR STORY. YOU MADE IT, GIRL, YOU MADE IT.