Caregiving

Five minute response to the writing prompt: "Write about a caregiving experience that moved you."

He was dying. He had been dying for a long time, but not really dying. Eating less. Drinking little. He still said a word or two. He enjoyed music. Was calmed by touch. The sun shining on his face made him smile. But he was sleeping more and more. Less responsive. Less present. And now he was really dying.

The family had all been in - children flying in from far away, his wife at his bedside. They stayed late into the night. Or early into the morning. At this point it was hard to know which. They told him it was OK to go.

Clergy visited. Prayers were said. Everyone was ready. But still he did not go. Morning came. He was still here. Again they gathered. His wife of oh-so-many years stroking his head, caressing his arm. "Oh my beautiful boy."