I was having a conversation with someone today. They also lost a parent to pancreatic cancer. We check in with each other every once in a while. I was telling this friend about how I couldn’t get some images out of my head. I have this image of his body being taken away. He…it… had been laying on the bed we set up for hours. We were getting all of his leftover meds together for hospice. We were all picking things up around him, getting rid of trash and he was just laying still, lifeless. His mouth was hanging open and it literally looked like someone had sucked the life out of him.
We were there when he passed, which was good. I wouldn’t have wanted it any other way. They came and got his body and I watched from across the room as they moved his body off the bed and on to a gurney. His frail legs knocked together and I could see that rigor mortis had set in. His legs didn’t bend. They were so stiff.
All that was left was the bed and soon that was gone too. We put the table back in the room, where it was before the bed was placed there. And then it was as though nothing had happened. The room looked like it did before the cancer came, but it was so quiet and empty. He was already missing. It happened so fast.
