I just read something somewhere on facebook...Grandpa died yesterday at 2.33 am. Were people walking around the bed with a stopwatch? Did they synchronise their Swiss timepieces beforehand? Was there an Atomic Clock in the room? Time isn't precious, only life is precious, and it's only precious because it ends...and the person's heart stops in a silence without annoying repetitive chimes. They have gone beyond time. Go to the window, open it, not to let the spirit out, as the fearful people do...but open the window wide so you can breathe in at last, after the emptiness of death, and acknowledge the breeze of the future arising to fill you.