I was ever a fighter, so—one fight more, The best and the last! I would hate that death bandage my eyes, and forebore, And bade me creep past.2 Such variations of the anticipation of death make each person’s dying unique and idiosyncratic, defying a neat process of any kind. The community grieving with the dying person has its own crisis of grief to endure over a time that itself varies from patient to patient. These crises have been mentioned in the previous chapter. Each crisis, from diagnosis