[Binuilienzync]

~ My father hit his head. He was in another city & we finally tracked him down to a hospital that wouldn't say anything. We drove there expecting the worse & there he was!
Chatty, a big gash on his head, but doing seemingly well. We went every day.
Within 5 days he wasn't talking, couldn't move. Had a stroke.
A football game was on {he always loved sports, even on radio} & we were talking about that one game where the announcers couldn't see the game & the cameras were snowed out? & suddenly he clearly said the teams & year & then was in a coma.
The next day we told him how much we loved him, how he'd never be forgotten & that he was a fine wonderful man, he'd done a really good job & we loved him. He could rest.
He died.
{The 'we' was my husband, my sister & my mother, his ex-wife he still loved, & me. }

Someone dying needs all the comfort they can get.
It's frightening & usually painful & shouldn't be done alone.