I mourn your passing

He has been getting weaker and weaker for the past few days. Eating less than usual, then not eating at all, and turning his head away when we attempted to make him drink or even wet his lips.

It was to no avail. His journey was about to end.

He tried to fight the weakness that his age had brought him. He tried to rise and rise again, sometimes succeeding but often tumbling down again. And all I could do was try to make him rest and just lie down.

He began to reek of death. His mouth foaming with blood. His legs covered by stains of his own vomit. I could not bear the idea that he was in such a state. Though queasy of stomach, I wiped away the smelly stains on his face and legs. I had to. With tears streaming down my face. Because I see him in pain.

I thought he would not last the night. I wanted to be there when he finally breathed his last.  I didn't want him to be alone when it happened. I stayed awhile. 

I saw him finally fall asleep, quite peacefully. I tried to make him comfortable so that the cold would not enter his body. But in my mind, there is a battle raging. Should I allow his suffering to continue and just wait for the natural course of things to take place? Or be merciful and let him be given the injection of death? 

For many minutes, I cried for him. For the suffering that he is going through. For the long years he had lived. For missing my family who is not with me to cry for him. For the possibility that we could all die alone. 

In the morning, he was still hanging on. But getting much weaker. He could only partially lift his head. And I heard his pitiful whining. For what exactly, I did not know. Maybe it was a mixture of everything? For the pain. For the helplessness. For the inability to rise again. Or maybe he was bidding his goodbye? Or asking me to help him and end his troubles?

That was the last straw. With my voice breaking, I called the one who could give him rest. And when they finally arrived, I asked them to be gentle to him. And asked for an assurance that he would be buried well.

For more than 15 years he was a constant presence in our house. He had his good and bad side but he had become a part of the family. And I am happy that my last gift was that I did not prolong his pain.

And what made me happier and contented? That we need not die alone. That we have a God who is always there to comfort us to our last breathe. And if we do die, we wake up to a better place. To go to heaven. To finally be done with pain and suffering. To remain in the embrace of a loving Father.

Goodbye Darius. Though you do not have a soul, I am praying to finally see you in heaven.