As soon as the Mad Men midseason finale opened with a shot of Bert Cooper, my suspicions were aroused. That’s not to say I immediately knew him for a dead man, but as the first half-hour progressed and much of the plot revolved around the founding member of the Sterling Cooper advertising empire, it became clearer that some kind of reckoning was coming.

In six and a half seasons, Cooper had never been such the focus of an episode. His retelling of Napoleon’s fortunes after the Battle of Waterloo sealed Cooper’s own fate and, coupled with his from-beyond-the-grave performance, delivered a clear warning to Don Draper about the prospects of trying to return from his defeat. SC&P, under McCann Erickson, is doomed to failure.

And for Don, that failure may be just what he needs.

The best things in life seem to be inching closer to Don as we move toward next year’s curtain call. As Kevin has pointed out, Don’s daughter loves him and his son admires him. His protege, Peggy Olson, has come into her own and no longer needs to resent her mentor. Don’s friendship with Roger remains steadfast. Even the final, poignant, true-to-life end to his marriage with Megan is a release from the bonds that tied him to the Don of the 1950s and 60s.

Only two impediments remain to the happiness of Don Draper. The first is the perpetual frustration of his drive to control his own professional destiny. Don at his best is a free spirit, and no corporate overlord will ever be compatible with Don’s style of business. Striking out on his own, putting his name on the door of a new agency, didn’t give Don the space to breathe he had sought for so many years, and I don’t think another new agency will satisfy those needs either. I foresee Don finding that advertising is not the true outlet for his creative talents, and perhaps he will find bliss back in the hot sun of California pursuing some new, sun-kissed career.

The second shackle is Don’s very identity. The dual life of Dick Whitman/Don Draper has driven the character from that first shocking time we saw Don tiptoe into his house in the suburbs to kiss his kids goodnight and slip into bed with his wife. I’m surely treading no new ground by predicting that shedding the lie that is Don Draper will be Dick Whitman’s final act of liberation.

“Waterloo” may have been the last battle for Bert Cooper, but it will also be the moment that frees Don to throw off these remaining manacles and find the bliss he has been seeking all along.

I must express how purely delightful the song-and-dance sendoff to the wonderful Robert Morse was. I watched that scene with a smile plastered on my face. Just hours before, I had watched BuzzFeed’s supercut of “Before They Were on Mad Men” and lamented that Morse had never gotten to flex his vocal chords as an ad exec. Then, like an answered prayer, was J. Pierpont himself, bouncing in his stocking feet and rolling those still-youthful eyes in a moment so surreal, but so right.

Thank you, Mr. Weiner, for this treat, and thank you, Mr. Morse, for everything you’ve given us. Bravo.