Today would have been the 79th birthday of my late husband and father of my children. He passed away june 9th in 2003. I don’t forget him  even I didn’t love him anymore when he died. I hated him, but I didn’t want him to die. The cancer took him away in six months only. In the end, he looked so serene. He died early in the morning, late in the night, it was between 4 and 5 o’clock in the morning.  The nurse called on the phone.  We had spent the afternoon  encore with him. He wasn’t conscious anymore. I had told him to let go, someone told me to do so, to free him. I had this odd feeling that I caused his death. A doctor, eventually his daughter of a first marriage, had told me about this strange thing about dying people. Some need to hear that they canelle leave in peace.  Generally, a family member can reassure the dying that it’s ok to leave. Kind of permission to die. I never forgot this moment when I said those words to the father of my children.  I don’t know if it was right or wrong.  Eventually, he died the following morning.



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