Cars pass. Time passes. We pass cards and balls, we pass up opportunities, and sometimes we pass out.
But, when the end comes - we don't pass. We die.
The old euphemism was "pass on" or "pass away," and I'm still OK with those. At least they are grammatical and don't evoke flatulence ("He passed." He passed what?).
A recent article in the Daily Gazette discussed with great sensitivity a mother's loss of her little girl, and her 10-year run since then of regularly publishing touching poems and messages to the deceased child in that newspaper's memorials section.
The article (you can read it here) struck me, as it never used the words "died" or "death" ... except in one instance - when the girl, Lindsay Plant, was quoted by her Mom as having said she wasn't afraid to die.
Not afraid to call dying by its name, either.
Wise girl. May she rest in peace.
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