My cousin’s grandfather was in hospice for 11 days before he stopped breathing. His family was all at his bedside, and the doctor announced the time of death: 10:31 AM. At 10:38 AM he gasped weakly and then began breathing again for fifteen more minutes. The doctors didn’t know quite what to do with that one…TOD is 10:31 AND 10:53.
I had to tell my dad that it was ok for him to go, that I would be ok. A few minutes later he was gone. This was the last time I lied to my dad.
I don’t know if this is relevant but on the night my grandpa died, he knew it was happening. He accepted it. For the last half hour of his life, he sat quietly while my grandma read him the love letters he wrote to her when he was a soldier in WWII. Prior to this night, he hadn’t spoken a single word for nearly a week. Right before he passed he looked into my grandmas eyes, kissed her hand, and said “I love you”. He couldn’t have gone any more peacefully.
My grandmother was a pretty traditional Minnesotan grandma. The sweetest woman in the world, would never hurt a fly, and would scold anyone for saying “heck, darn, etc.”
Until she had back surgery… at which point she was caught trying to sneak out of her room, thought my dad was her brother and told him to “go steal a car so they could get the fuck out of here.”
Her actual last-ish words were at dinner the night after my grandpa died. She just quietly announced “well, I think I’m done then.” She passed away that night. Terrific lady.