One of the characteristics of humans from the start seems to have been reverence for the dead grounded in the belief (or hope) that death was not the end. I have watched one person die — over a period of some hours. That would have been my first wife. My stepdaughter Jen and I held her hand for the duration. Not much actually happened. She was comatose and, eventually, had a coronary episode that proved fatal. We were there to make sure she was not revived. I like to think that at some level she knew we were there.
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