He sang to her before she died, and she smiled at him one last time.
When he told us today that that had happened to his family, I didn't know what I could do to help, other than offer our home to him if he needed to get away for a while or cook him dinner.
At first he refused but I told him to give it some thought and finally he said "...those enchiladas you made were pretty good..."
So I am making him chicken enchiladas, spanish rice, refried beans with cheese, chips and salsa. We're going to have a fiesta night. Ole!
I can't do much. I can't heal the pain. I can't even ease it, or even really relate. I've been fortunate enough not to lose any of my immediate family or friends. The only funeral I can remember is my grandpa on my Dad's side, and I had only seen him a few times since he lived so far away.
But what I can do is offer a place to stay, some place where you can just step outside your reality for a while and relax. Fill your tummy with good food and give you a pillow and a blanket when you doze off.