I have always wondered if old people are as scared of dying as the young. It's not an easy question to ask. I figure this is perhaps one of the consolations of ageing; that you come to accept death but it seems more likely that because you have collected more things, more children, more grandchildren, more great-grandchildren, it gets harder to let them go. Then again, a long life means endings that play over and over. Nana held on to her newspaper subscription for the death notices more than the news and most days she would know someone as she read through the list, shaking her head and tut-tutting, as if to say, "What a waste it all is."