We are down to the final moments, at least the final days. Her skin is blothcy, her breathing is raspy. My handbook tells me this is when the countdown begins. Any moment now she’ll be gone.

I will never be ready to have her gone, but I am so ready for her to die I was begging for it on the drive home.

I held her and told her quietly to just let go.

So now it’s my turn.


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