October 28th, 2018

2:40AM

An autumn snowfall, the first of the year. We were with you when the breath left your body, holding your hand. I know you knew we were there. The nurse said it wouldn’t happen tonight, but we hoped it would; it was torture to see you in pain. She said sometimes people might hang on, not wanting to leave if they know their loved ones are there. We stroked your hair and let you know it was okay for you to go.  We toasted you and thanked you. We were filled with a sense of privilege and duty to accompany you on your final journey. When your eyes fluttered open and you jolted, we were told you couldn’t see us, but we reassured you anyhow and we noticed your last tears. No one will know what you saw as your lungs slowed; but then we felt your peace. We didn’t let go until we were sure you were really gone. In the hours between the worlds you left this one a red fox appeared at the window, and we knew you were okay

Editor: This affectionate memorial was composed by my niece and goddaughter Jennifer for my late mother Yvonne.