RIP Uncle Winston

I've experienced death many times, but never the way I did today. My Uncle Winston, who's been sick a long time, died this afternoon.

This is the first time I ever had someone die in my presence, but it wasn't the dramatic kind of death you hear about or see on TV. There was no one running to his bedside with a crash cart breaking out paddles (even though it happened twice before we got there), or no long beep with a flat line running across a computer screen (the most we saw were little blips, that grew progressively smaller, but never went flat). The nurse had to actually tell us he was gone.

The way they had him hooked up to those machines, you couldn't tell what was happening just by looking at him. His breathing was labored, but he was breathing. You can normally tell that someone's alive if they're breathing, but in this case it was merely illusion. When his heart finally did stop, we had no idea because his breathing was the same. The only clue we had that he was going were his cold hands. They were as soft as ever, but ice cold. The nurse said it was because all his energy was being directed toward his heart, so it was normal for the extremities to be cold. His face was still warm though, which was a small comfort, but we at least had something to hold onto for the moment.

Because my mom is the next of kin, she had to sign a form allowing them not to resuscitate him if he regressed. The nurse was very kind and explained everything they had done, and that it would be pointless to keep him going. She said that although he never regained consciousness, he had waited for us to get there, and could tell by the monitors that he was starting to drift away. We agreed that it was time to let him go; he'd suffered enough. My mom told me to let go of his hand so he wouldn't try to hang on any longer. We said a prayer for him, kissed him goodbye, and came home.

I wish him well on his new journey. He's been through an awful lot in his life, and now it's over. He deserves to finally be at peace.