Dad's family sat vigil here with me for the last 3 days of his life, all of us waiting to hear just one more breath. Would it come, or would that last sigh be his final exhale?

He died while I was sleeping. I woke while his body was still warm and flexible. He had suffered horribly, but the end was peaceful. At least he had that. We had that.

After the hearse left and his family left me with casseroles and sandwich trays, I found myself alone at home for the first time in years.

Maybe that was the hardest part. Or maybe the hardest part was when everybody came back and then everybody left again after the memorial service.

I had spent years taking care of Dad the way he took care of me when I was a small child.

It took me years to get used to not being anybody's caretaker.

I hear you.