remembered. He was at peace in sleep, not in
wakefulness.Andwhathewantedforthefinallinesof
his story,nowthat nature waspressing its limits,was
peacefulness.
Duringhis finalbout ofwakefulness, heasked forthe
grandchildren. They were not there, so I showedhim
picturesonmyiPad.Hiseyeswentwide,andhissmile
was huge. He looked at every picture in detail.
Then he descended back into unconsciousness. His
breathingstoppedfortwentyorthirtysecondsatatime.
I’dbe sureitwasover, onlyto findthat hisbreathing
would start again. It went on this way for hours.
Finally,aroundtenaftersixintheafternoon,whilemy
motherandsisterweretalkingandIwasreadingabook,I
noticed that he’d stopped breathing for longer than
before.
“I think he’s stopped,” I said.
We went to him.My mother took his hand. And we
listened, each of us silent.
No more breaths came.