I arrived. She was snoring, which meant she was still alive. The staff told me she ate a few bites of breakfast then was so tired they put her back to bed. 

So I’m sitting at her bedside, waiting for each breath in, and experiencing relief with each snore out, and crying. 

I’m holding so many opposing thoughts at once. I want her to be at peace. I want more time with her. I don’t want her to be in pain. I wonder if the meds are hastening her death. I miss my team at work. This is the most valuable way I can spend my time. 

I wonder what’s going through her mind. Does she realize she’s preparing for death? Does time have any relevance? Can she differentiate between all the women holding her and whispering they love her? Does she know she’s loved?