Watching someone die isn’t like watching them ‘slip away’ or seeing ‘the life fade from behind their eyes.’ It’s watching them get lost. They start to cross over and speak to the people they see there. ‘My mother and father are fine, thank you.’ They point, and gasp, and want you to look at what they see. The rivers of milk and honey. The terrifying face of the angel of death. The simple biology of a failing heart. An arm raises, then falls.