I was camped out at a nearby hotel room. Was grateful to have the resources to do so at that time.
The people at the hospital found me odd. I would show up early in the morning to talk to the doctors/hospice, leave mid-afternoon, come back for dinner, go back to my hotel...then show back up at 2:00am to sleep with her for a few hours. I told the hospice workers at the hospital that if she wanted to let go when I was not there, I was making damn sure that she could; that she alone would make her decisions, even comatose. I told them that my sis had her own mind, and I would trust it.
I wondered myself how it would all end up. She was quite angry with me towards the end because I couldn't make corporate medicine try to save her.
The night before she died, my husband and I read Winnie the Pooh to her (her favorite childhood story). I played her her favorite music. My husband and I left at 3am to go back to the hotel, knowing the end was near, wanting to give her some space. Came back at 7:15am. She was still alive.
We (hospice nurses/doctors, my husband and I) were talking about children who made it through when their only parent died, and how some did quite well, despite their immense pain. Shortly after that conversation, I looked over and saw that my sister had stopped breathing.
She was pronounced dead 10 minutes later. But she really left when we discussed how her boy might just live decently, and with hope, even beyond her.
Bottom line: she waited until she felt her son had a chance. That is all she ever cared about. It was incidental that she allowed me to be there, but that was her way. And I am grateful nonetheless.
I miss my Silver Girl like fire. Four years this December (Winter Solstice). I will never forget.
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