There's no perfect way to die. Some may say that if they are surrounded by family, that it would be alright. That if they went down fighting, they'd be okay with the way they died. But they'd still be dead. And when you're sick, when you're old, there's no way for you to know when your going to die. Dying may be inevitable, but pain isn't. Pain can be prevented. But some people are just so stupid--so in denial--that they refuse to see the signs, and others suffer. Whether its the person themselves, or the ones around them. And think about what those people must go through. Seeing you die. Watching your chest crease to rise or watching that monitor sound off. How must they feel? Helpless, pained, regretful of all the things they might have said or done that they long ago made up for. Everything is brought to the surface when someone dies--at least for the people around them. While you slowly sink under the inevitable veil of death, the people around you--or at least their thoughts and memories--fly to the surface. Everything they've ever done to you, done for you, done with you, comes rushing back in one huge wave. They could cry, they could get angry. At themselves, at you. The damage that you unintentionally did sinks into their being--their very soul--and they mourn. They will never be as they were, they'll never forget you, but the pain eases--never disappears eases--they do what they can to live. And when everything seems like it's crashing down around them because you are gone, they cry more, they cry harder, they beg, they plead for something. Something that they don't fully understand. They want you back, they want closure. There never going to get any of it. They find "closure" somewhere "within" themselves--or so they say. It's false, something to fill a void. Like when a goldfish dies and you go get a new one--like that, only not nearly as simple. Death is never simple. If it were, then we wouldn't grieve so heavily. And everyone grieves heavily--they're lying if they say they didn't. At one point of another all those little things you did with come back to them and they will break down. They always do--and then they "heal". Sure, heal, because a light can escape from a black hole...not. I think what I'm trying to say here is that death--in all of it's "glory"-- is a horrible thing, no matter how peaceful. Someone always gets boned in the end--either rigor mortis or in the figurative sense. Everything ends, and that leaves a hole, sure the hole can be stitched shut--sewed to stop the ever flowing blood--but the scar is still there. And those scars make us who we are, but Death is still painful. One way or another--there's always pain. Always.