We do not die alone. We die in the midst of us. In most settings, the person is ripped from the cloth, leaving stretched and torn threads. We all die a bit, we all contract, we might expand. If the death is witnessed, there is an exchange, and often it is good for the witness. Something in us goes away, maybe a familiar touch, a voice on which we depended. What is happening is that between is changed.
:- Doug.
