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"Well for you, if
you keep an eye on your death-bed all the time, and put yourself in the right
dispositions for death as each day passes. Perhaps,
before now, you've seen a man die? Remember, then, that you have got the same
road to travel." -- Thomas à Kempis
Between 2:00 and 3:00 a.m.
on the Monday after Palm Sunday, the hospice nurse phones our aunt's home,
telling us we should drive in as soon as possible.
Dad's breathing is slower,
more labored, but not painfully drawn because of the morphine.
her husband, and I sit in a half circle by mom's chair and talk with her
At 6:25 a.m., the same
time, mom remembers later, that dad used to lace up and tie his boots at
the bottom of the stairs before
leaving for work
the factory all those years, he exhales his last long breath.
into his silence
the sound of waking birds
from a window