Well, let me tell you a story. You and I speak of death; it’s obvious things die every moment of time. You and I have gone to funerals and we’ve said goodbye to friends that we hope we will see…but we hope. We speak of the cold hand of death, we speak of the jaws of death, we speak of the king of terrors, and people speak, “Oh well, alright, that’s just some poetical expression.” Is that really true? Is there such a thing as a hand of death? Well, let me share with you an experience. It took place six years ago. We were living then on El Camino, it’s a little street just at the end of the Strip, north of the Strip. One morning my wife said to me when we met for brunch, “I had the strangest experience this morning.” She said, “I awoke and I sat up in bed, and then you came into the room and you sat on the bed. And then as you sat on the bed, a hand came out of nowhere and a hand grasped my hand. I didn’t see the face of the hand, I didn’t see what possessed the hand, it was just a hand and it held me in a firm grip. Then you looked up seemingly at the body where the hand was attached, and you said, ‘Oh, my friend Death.’ And then I said to you, ‘But I don’t want to die.’ I said, ‘Are you afraid to die?’ and she said, ‘No, I’m not afraid to die, but I don’t want to die now.’ Then I said, ‘Alright, if you don’t want to die now, alright’ and the two hands disengaged, and she returned to her normal state here.”246 ¶17