Jan, my mother-in-law, is dying. There’s a strong chance that by the time you read this, she will already be gone. The moment has been coming for years – she has untreated terminal cancer – but even so the final decline has been stunningly swift. A few weeks ago she hosted Christmas for a dozen people: making elaborate food plans, doing dishes, dispensing presents, stopping only when we forced her. Her daily nap was about her only concession, and one day she skipped even that to get a haircut. Now, she has no choice but to concede everything.