There was little for us to do, and none of us wanted to leave his side. This time felt sacred, but not in the way that scripture, liturgy, or chants are sacred. There was a luminous — or numinous — quality to the moment. A great man was passing. So much was being lost, but oh, what a treasure he was. What a privilege to have known him, to have loved and been loved by him and to have been raised by him.
— Ira Byock, Dying Well