Dad has survived two heart attacks and bowel cancer but complains more about his health each year. When I see him taking a nap during the day he reminds me of when I was a doctor looking after older patients. Like him their slight frames were wrapped up tightly in their blankets, their souls slowly slipping from this life into the next. I don’t think my dad will die imminently but thoughts of his death are inevitable when I see him lying there, frailer than last year, breathing quietly, and seemingly relieved all the earthly stress accumulated in his life.