September 11
He kept on going and giving the nurses fits and starts. They thought he should have been 'gone' last week, but since he has always been known as a tough ol' buzzard...he kept on keeping on.
What I mean is. He kept 'hanging' in there when they didn't think it was humanly possible.
Today was his day.
It is an act of love to tend to a dying person. It isn't scary. It isn't awful.
I washed his face and other parts. I massaged his legs that were shaking and spoke quietly to him about how he needed to gather up Fred and Badger [mules that we nearly always rode together in years past] and have them saddled when I got back to him on the other side.
I told him how much he meant to me. How much I loved him. How he made my life more meaningful. That I wasn't letting him get away with just leaving me as I'd find him in the afterlife and we'd be together again.
Eventually the body systems shut slowly down and the breathing got very calm and then paused and then started ... and then paused. And he became so peaceful looking as I held his hand.
And there it was.
He reached the end of his Long Road.
