There comes a time when everything that you could possibly say has been said, and there are simply no more words. Yet they all kept on speaking. I found myself locked inside my own head begging for silence, he was dying on the outside while I was dying from the inside. We sat by his side for ten days watching his life force slowly drift from his worn, tired body. We made sure he was never alone. We held him, kissed him, bathed him, shared precious memories, and made sure that we kept his room filled with love. We made sure he heard our laughter, because that was how he lived his life. If we found ourselves overwhelmed by a moment we quietly stepped out of his room.
As each day passed I found myself wondering if he was holding on because he couldn’t bear the thought of leaving a life he loved so much, or was he afraid? Everyone who so adamantly spoke about letting him go being the right thing to do found themselves unable to sit beside him as his life slipped slowly away. I found it ironic that those of us who were tortured over the very idea of removing the feeding peg were the only ones able to see his journey through to the very end. Yet they kept on speaking. Maybe it was out of nervousness, fear, or grief, but inside my mind I kept begging for silence.
Our loved one spoke to us for the first four days. He even attempted to joke with us, that was always his way. Then there was silence. A deafening silence that spoke so loudly it became impossible for me to continue to listen to the others speak. Then on the tenth day there was the final silence as his last breath left his body. He was surrounded by his family, I held on to him just the way I always have. In that moment there were no more words, only love.