Watching and Waiting

It's 10:42 pm on April 21.

Thank you all for your kind thoughts a prayers.

They are very much appreciated.

The girls have gone home to get some sleep and I've sent mom to bed for a few hours.

I managed to catch another 2 hours this afternoon to add to the 3 hours I got last night.

I'm sleepy but fear going to sleep and not being present when Mike decides to go.

He is sighing a lot and doing the fish-out-of-water breathing.

I've put quiet music on and am sitting next to his bed.

Every now and then he mumbles something.

I'm not sure if he's talking to me or himself.

He is not going gentle into that good night,

but is quietly raging against the dying of the light,

as Dylan Thomas says. 

It's not easy to let go.

It's hard, yet peaceful.

He is comfortable.

He'll go when he's ready.

* * *

Do not go gentle into that good night, 

Old age should burn and rage at close of day; 

Rage, rage against the dying of the light. 

Though wise men at their end know dark is right, 

Because their words had forked no lightning they 

Do not go gentle into that good night. 

Good men, the last wave by, crying how bright 

Their frail deeds might have danced in a green bay, 

Rage, rage against the dying of the light. 

Wild men who caught and sang the sun in flight, 

And learn, too late, they grieved it on its way, 

Do not go gentle into that good night. 

Grave men, near death, who see with blinding sight 

Blind eyes could blaze like meteors and be gay, 

Rage, rage against the dying of the light. 

And you, my father, there on the sad height, 

Curse, bless me now with your fierce tears, I pray. 

Do not go gentle into that good night. 

Rage, rage against the dying of the light.