An image came rushing back to me while spreading his ashes at McCallie. It was his last glance. After days of not moving, his eyes closed shut, no food or water for a week we knew Joe was within hours of his death. In the last week I always sat beside him on our bed, holding his hand stroking his forehead as we took turns administrating pain medications. He had what they called the "death rattle"; he was running out of air and his heart was racing. I remember Mike saying to him even though we would miss him terribly we would all be OK and remember him forever.
As Joe struggled for every breath I held his hand tighter. Then with one last gasp, he turned his head, opened his eyes and looked at me. It wasn't a look of fear, but one of I will miss you all so much. It was the last communication I had with Joe, and is burned in my memory forever.
It was the best conversation I ever had with my son.
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