Life is a journey, death is the final frontier. These are clichés, yet the metaphorical language they draw upon is worth attending to when we encounter them. Movement is present whether we find ourselves at the bedside of a dying loved one or are confronted with managing our own grief in the wake of a death. This essay uses the text Gone from My Sight as a road map for thinking about migration in dying and argues that rather than dismiss language about travel or visitors, it should be taken seriously when one is with the dying or those experiencing grief.

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