My father-in-law is dying. This afternoon, I went to say goodbye and watched as he gasped for breath, fighting against the pneumonia that is going to kill him. Dying is a hard thing to do, to let go and set off on the last adventure into the unknown. He battles the weight of his chest, filling his lungs with effort and then sliding into periods of breathing so shallow that he does not seem to inhale.
Hour by hour, the episodes of apnea will increase. Within days, he will stop breathing, but it will happen with such stealth that we will not notice it immediately. We know this is coming. We cannot be prepared for the end.
He will not go gently. He rails against death, but in the end, death always wins. And yet we will not be ready when he finally goes.
No comments:
Post a Comment