Still. living.

Susan did not die that day, and when I went back to visit a few days later, it was long after breakfast time. It had been a long day for me, and I didn't feel like driving 15 miles out to visit Susan. I knew I was being selfish, but I also recognized my feelings as realistic and normal. Volunteering is thought to be selfless, and I often am congratulated by others when they learn about what I study, but there are days when it becomes tiring to make time for visits. Immediately after I have these thoughts, I of course feel guilty, often thinking back to moments such as Susan's breakfast when I realize that some of the people I visit are all alone and would probably never hope to die with an untouched breakfast tray in front of them. After a few moments, I knew I needed to go see Susan, so I headed back to the nursing home.

I headed for Susan's door, as a nurse was just leaving her room. "Is Susan awake? I was just coming to visit her." "Susan just died. A hospice volunteer was here a half hour ago, and she died. She's all clean now and the windows are open for a breeze. We're calling her family, but it'll take them a while to get here if you wanted to stop in." I froze for a moment. When I had visited Susan days before, she was on final days, so I knew it wasn't going to be long. However after the weekend went by, Susan was still alive, so I suppose I wasn't expecting to hear that she had just died. I had expected to be the one sitting with her as she eased out of this life. I told the nurse I would only be a few minutes. I went into Susan's room and found her very much like she had been days before. Her eyes were barely closed and her mouth was half open. I touched her arm. Her skin still felt papery and slightly warm. When Susan was alive, her breathing was so slow that often she appeared to not be breathing at all - a look not much different than she appeared moments after her death. Since her skin was still warm, she even felt as alive as she had days before. At first glance, it was difficult to believe that Susan was actually dead. I looked at her face and then noticed her left ear had started to turn blue. I knew then that Susan was dead. I said a quick prayer, thanking God for Susan's life, and praying for her soul, and I turned to leave the room. Just before I headed out the door, I glanced back once more at Susan. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw the Yahtzee game sitting on the dresser and thought about how we had never gotten to play even one game.