Dad and I got the call from the hospital at 3:43 am on Monday, December 7th.  It was not the first time we had received a call from the hospital in the middle of the night or in the early morning hours, but it was the last time.  You were dying, though we did not know it at the time.  You had fought so hard for so long and now the end of your life had arrived. It was inconceivable.

The night previous we had actually gone back to the hotel with hope in our hearts for the first time in a while.  You had had several good days, and by that I mean nothing major had gone wrong and that was good.  We had both thought, but never said aloud, that maybe you had turned the corner.

They were still working on you when we arrived.  You did not have a heartbeat.  They called your death at 4:15.  Everyone had done everything they could and it was time to let you go.  You had been so strong.  You had survived for three weeks with each day bringing another setback, any one of which was capable of causing your death.  But you held on, you wanted to survive, you had the will, if that alone had been enough.

They say people choose when they die, within limits.  They may wait till someone is there with them or has finally gone home for the day.  They may try to avoid a day of significance, a holiday, birthday or wedding.  We’ve seen it in our family.  I think you chose to die when Dad was there, still in Houston, just hours before he was to return home for the coming week.  You knew we would need each other to survive the moment of your passing.

It was your final and most loving gift to us.  We thank you.  I hope you knew we were there with you, especially at the end.  I hope you know you will always be here with us.  I hope to see your smiling face when it is my turn to go.

“We cannot afford to forget any experience, not even the most painful.”              – Dag Hammarskjold