I'm sitting in my father-in-law's room in the hospice wing of the hospital. At 12 PM on Wednesday he was taken off life support...and yet he is still here. Almost 48 hours later. I shouldn't get my hopes up because there is absolutely no brain activity and therefore, no chance of recovery. All medical interventions have been stopped, and he only is receiving some oxygen. No IVs, no monitors, no kidney dialysis, and no nourishment.
His blood pressure is slowly dropping. His breathing is becoming a bit more shallow. His hands and feet are growing cold.
I am here with Patrick, his brother, and their mom. It's silent right now except for the clicking of the keys on my laptop as I type this. And the breathing. His breathing. In and out. In and out. Rhythmic and peaceful. It amazes me how the sound of someone dying can be so beautiful.