After a few decades of marriage, my mother lost her lifelong partner to terminal cancer. Even though we knew the day was coming, no one in the family somehow expected it when it finally came.
I was actually the only one in the room with him when he left this world. There was no fanfare, no dramatic "Time of death" announcement ala Hollywood. I'd run out into the hallway, looking for help, belatedly realizing it was useless.
After my family arrived, mother spent a few minutes holding father's hand, stroking his cheek, smoothing his hair. I remember frigidly refusing to touch him, not wanting to let my fingers feel what I could see, the lack of life and continuation of breath. I could not, would not associate that wax like figure with the energetic man who raised me, taught me sports, and strong-armed his values into my head.
In the aftermath, mother realized she had never said the words " I love you."
"I Love You" - original poem, Style of Calligraphy: Standard 楷書 ( 楷书kǎishū)
