Unconscious on pain medication, her kidneys failing, fluid building up in her lungs. She struggled for breath for most of her last day.

I sat by her side, held her hand, told her that she didn't have to fight anymore. That it was OK to let go. She wouldn't.

Late that night, I was sitting in the hospital room's recliner, exhausted and naively thinking I might be able to get some sleep, that she would probably wake up again once some of the medication wore off, that this was a temporary situation. The doctor had said, around noon, that she likely had "days" left, not "hours".

Then, I heard little whimpers escaping in her breath.

I went back to her side, held her hand. I told her, three times:

"
We all love you.

You have been the best wife.

You've done a great job.

But you can go now.

You are free.
"

And then she stopped breathing.

I choose to believe she heard me.