What a way to go

As I read this article in the Wall Street Journal, I thought "it makes death sound so easy".

I hope it was, as stated.

the doctor on call stopped by to discuss my dad’s case. He said that my father had had multi-organ failure, and there was little they could do beyond the drastic measures that my dad, before his illness, had said he didn’t want. He didn’t want to be hooked up to machines. He didn’t want to be resuscitated. So just about the only options left were keeping him comfortable, continuing with the oxygen, antibiotics, and various non-intrusive measures, and hoping for a miracle.

In the new room, I held his hand and he stared past me into space. His breathing became shallow. I called the nurse, and she told me he didn’t need the oxygen mask anymore and then exited the room to leave us alone. I kissed my father on the forehead, told him I loved him and that he was a great dad, and then I couldn’t hear his breathing anymore. I put my ear to his chest–right on his bypass scar–and I couldn’t hear his heart beating. I put my hand on his head, where his hairline had receded, and it felt just as warm and moist as the top of my 8-year-old son’s head did when he was a newborn.

His father was wise to let his children know of his wishes. We all need to do this, no matter how young or old.

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