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  • Beautifully.

    She waited. She waited until after her birthday. November 10th. She waited to think about it. Until it didn't make sense any more. She waited to feel about it. Until it just was that way. She waited to realize that she couldn't help it.

    She mourned the things she wasn't going to do any more. The books at the foot of the bed she wasn't going to read. The days she wasn't going to have any more.

    We had long nights together. I slept on the floor beside her bed and tied a string and bell to the bedpost. She was embarrassed for her son to help her live. She was embarrassed to confuse the words for simple things. She was embarrassed to be dying. I told her it was okay. I told her it was the least I could do for her. She had given me more.

    She made it through that last weekend on spirit alone. I have never seen anything like that. After Friday's dawn ... a slow slow dawn if ever there were one ... the light was different. In the room, in the air, all around her. That was the last day she ever went outside.

    Still, she waited ... waited until Maggie came. Four days, no food just water. She waited until I wouldn't be alone. She died when I walked back into the room where she slept. She died with her hand in mine. I told her it was "okay."

    With a quiet gentle breath she let it go.

    A little after nine on a quiet, beautiful Tuesday night.
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