The Last Forty-five Minutes
He was lying down, gasping. It was his own bed and it was his time. Forty-five minutes from this moment he would die. Beside him sat his wife in the overstuffed leather chair that had been pulled close for the final event. She had been there all night. She sat on the edge as she patted his hand and tried to soothe him—disheveled, wide-eyed with simmering panic, twitching, pleading. It had been the hardest night of her life. The hospice…