"Mortui vivos docent."

I realised that I had failed to hit her across the head hard enough when she started stirring even as I gripped the shovel. I had meant for her to have a peaceful, uninterrupted journey on her way to Styx, but the woman was always so damn stubborn. Her eyes were unfocused however; I had precious few moments to spare, lest the situation become even more untenable.
The moist earth made soft spattering sounds against her jeans not unlike the first heavy drops of rain. Her eyes began to lose that glaze as she started grasping her situation. I could see the neurons firing and the thought processes connecting. I gave up trying to do this shovel by shovel, and started scraping the dirt in; I didn't want to have to hit her in the head again. Murder is so ungraceful.
There is terror in her eyes, but I am doing the best that I can to help her alleviate those fears. No, I am giving her the best gift of all: total transcendence.
She will no longer fear.
She will no longer want.
She will no longer feel.

She will thank me.