Across the room her sad eyes pleaded for understanding and confirmation. Barely audible she whispered, “I beat death several times in my life, but not this time.” I could only respond with no response as her daughter stroked her arm and encouraged her to drink. I knew, as she knew, the time had come to let go.
The death rattle seized her as phlegm gurgled in her throat. The intake of her breath stalled. I looked across her chest as her daughter’s face registered what I thought, it would be her last. Then she drew yet another ragged breath.
Why in life was death so hard.