I just spoke to my mom, who is keeping vigil at my Grandfather's bedside, along with my father, my grandmother, and a cousin of my dad's. Yesterday, when he became unresponsive, they spent the entire day in his room, playing music and reading poems aloud. Are you praying? I asked. Not exactly, she said. I blurted out that there was a Buddhist prayer they could do, you know, if they felt like it. I explained it to her: Picture the person bathed in light, happy and healthy and at peace; imagine them merging with the light and accepting death; make it a happy thing, in order to let their spirit go without turmoil. My family, like most, doesn't talk about spirituality much. We're Quakers, too, so there isn't much talking at all during services. But my mom liked the Buddhist prayer idea, and I think she's gonna do it. Because I was right there during the death of my boyfriend's father a couple of years ago, which was a very non-traditional death and after-death experience, I feel like I kind of have some street cred with my family when it comes to people dying. What a strange thing to be known for. My sister's the pregnant one (currently making her a minor celebrity in our infant-starved family), and I'm the death-experienced one. At least I can feel useful instead of helpless.