...Brain death didn't allow one time to heal, and the brain was the warehouse for the spirit. Punch a hole in that and you'd shuffle off your mortal coil right away.
Keeping your coil unshuffled was the problem.

“Oh, I know. They’re dwarfs pretending to be elves.No, they’re not dwarfs either…”

“I gladly shucked off my wet, muddy jeans and put on the new pair. I noticed she…”

“Heh. I think you made your point, Atticus.Gods Below, Oberon, that was horrendo…”

“Ye know what me Sean used to say, God rest his soul? He said, 'A friend will he…”