I think the worst part about watching death—even just the death of an ill-tempered and anxious dog who lived a long life of almost 15 years, who had deteriorated to the point where he couldn’t even stand up to take a drink of water or even to move out of his own filth—is that you know for a fact it’s going to happen again and again, unless you happen to go first.

I have seen a lot of people die under my care. And the deaths of friends younger than me have been difficult to bear even though I did not witness their final moments. And I dread it more and more, even knowing that’s just what the future holds.