The closing chapter of the flood survivor's life marks a profound turning point in human history. The baton of time is passed to the next generations, who are tasked with rebuilding and reshaping the world. While there are differing traditions regarding the exact phrasing used to record the passing of his years, the approach that frames his life in the singular carries a deep message. It serves as a testament to his absolute righteousness. His long life was so continuous and consistent that it was like a single day, completely free of any shift or wavering in his dedication to serving God [צרור המור].
He lived to be nine hundred and fifty years old, an age similar to that of most ancient patriarchs [קאסוטו]. However, this total presents a slight mathematical puzzle. He was six hundred years old when the flood began and lived for another three hundred and fifty years afterward. Adding these periods together equals exactly nine hundred and fifty, which seems to leave the actual year of the flood uncounted. The accepted resolution is that the year spent surviving the devastation is indeed excluded from the total count of his life [חזקוני, ברכת אשר על התורה].
He ultimately passed away without having any additional children, possibly a consequence of the actions taken against him by Canaan. Consequently, the entire future course of human history would unfold exclusively through the three sons who survived alongside him in the ark [ביאור שטיינזלץ].
The simple recording of his natural death carries a clear philosophical statement. While other ancient cultures elevated their flood survivors to the status of gods and granted them eternal life, the Torah firmly rejects this idea by highlighting his basic humanity [קאסוטו]. His passing removes him from the biblical stage [קאסוטו], clearing the way for the next central movement in history: the awakening of Abraham to call out in the name of God [ספורנו].