Larissa DannAs my mother lay dying, my children sat with her, talked to her, reminisced with her, read to her, sang to her, played her favourite music, held her hand.There was no question that they would not be as involved with her death, as they had been with her life.This is my story of honouring my mother’s final days.Day One. I am lying on my side in a high metal-railed bed, the bars pressing into my back.