At first it was hard to look at him. His skin was so pale and hung so heavy on his neck. Every breath was hard work.
On the third day I really started to look at him. He was beautiful. He looked like a porcelain doll. His chest continued to rise and fall. When others would talk to him, his eyes would flutter, his breath would change. He could hear us, although I hardly knew what to say.
I wanted him to know he could go even though I know he longed to stay.
On the last day I felt him cry, his sobs stifled, yet they vibrated his chest and rattled his throat, often releasing the very pains I wanted to let out.
I know that feeling. My soul sobbed with his. It is the pains of knowing the will of God yet resisting because you know what he is asking you to do isn’t going to be easy.