February 11, 2012

My husband took his last breath today at around 8:40 a.m.  He had been
breathing hard and pretty much in a coma in the past two days with no food,
drink, or medicines.  I could only give him liquid morphine to help with
the breathing.  We thought the dead rattle came Thursday night, but the
Hospice nurse didn't agree because sometimes, it sounded like snoring. 
Friday night, his breath was fast and shallow.  Early this morning, I gave
him one dose of the morphine but he was still struggling.  I whispered
in his ears that I prayed and asked him to be guided to a better place
and that the kids and I would be ok, and I would take good care of them.
I would see him again later.  I gave him a kiss.  Shortly after, I
remembered that he bought a birthday gift for our son when he was still
able to walk around, so I went to our closet to get the gift, and that's
when he took his last breath.  With the gift in my hand, I realize he got
so quiet, so I ran over to his bed.  His eyes were half opened.  I touched
him and called his name, but I knew he was gone. I think he tried to ease
our pain by waiting for us not to be around.