I begin every ending and I’m found in death,
But I’m also in life and twice in each breath.
To find me look to the end of space,
Or just at the end of the nose on your face.
What am I?

My first is a letter and an insect that flies.
My second starts understanding but also unwise.
Third and fourth, a letter that’s also a drink.
Next, a vowel you say when surprised.
My last is in blinking and winking, I think.
Now gather my parts, close them together,
Like I close up the walls that hold out cold weather.
What am I?