All the best memories are hers

K’s final scene in the film is a fitting end to his arc and representative of his character. It’s both deep with meaning, and sparse of emotion. We hear few words, but understand a great deal.

As K passes the horse to Deckard, he makes a positive statement of his own initiative. This is the first and last one that we hear in the film.

K: “All the best memories are hers.”

There is a beat here, which gives the viewer time to reflect on what has happened, and what these two characters symbolize.

One sacrificed everything for his child, the other for his fellow Replicants.

All they received in exchange were memories.

None of these words are shared, but you can see them in K’s artificial eyes.

At the point where human and Replicant can finally connect, Deckard attempts to bridge the the gap:

Rick Deckard: “Why? Who am I to you?”

What K has experienced is beyond any words which Deckard could comprehend.

True to his character, K never shares his innermost feelings.

Rather than the immortal, rain-soaked soliloquy given by Roy Batty, K opts for a simple, enigmatic response which conveys everything which he has seen, experienced, lost and learned:

K: “Go and meet your daughter.”

He has fought for Replicant freedom, reunited a family, and lost the one person that he had in his life. But in sacrificing so much, he stood for something. He was real. He became more human than any human, and experienced what it is to truly live.

And in order to truly live, like Morton, he knows that he must die.

Unlike Luv’s rage filled retirement, K meets his end with the satisfaction that he has lived for something more meaningful than himself. He takes a moment to savor the snow in his hand, reminding him of the ephemeral nature of life

“It is not death that a man should fear, but he should fear never beginning to live.”
― Marcus Aurelius, Meditations

As K breathes his last, the snowflakes take on another meaning. All of his memories, loves, actions, secrets, dreams, whys, and hows disappear among the pure, white snow. 

It’s beautiful, isn’t it?

Where K’s life ends, Deckard’s begins.

We see him laying eyes on his daughter for the first time. Her hands touch at snowflakes, echoing K’s final thoughts.

In a dystopian world of such bleak emptiness and moral ambiguity, we finish with a sense of hope.

The death of a single Replicant is like a flame burning out in the blackness of time, a life gone forever.

But K’s sacrifice creates embers. Their light glows in the darkness of an uncertain future, for humans and Replicants alike.

And this light, like a flower blooming in the shade of a dead tree, brings hope. For K, this is the end, but for Replicants, this is the beginning.

Deckard comes face to face with his daughter. The look on his face is more beautiful, bittersweet and poignant than can be said with any words.

This moment cannot be replicated.

This is what it is to be human.