"A day of life has approached me. The day of death. As others say it "My time has come." Then thee others cry. I am old now. It's just a regular type of day. Except today I lie on my death bed. It's comfy. I don't need anything. No water, fresh towels, jello. Nothing. I am sad yes, yet I do want is the pain to stop. Don't pull the plug yet. Please let me die trying. I don't want to give up. I love you." Those were his last words to me. "I love you."
  Two hours later; he died. I stayed holding his hand. After the buzzer was a tone of one. Continuing, beeeeeeeeep and so forth. I kissed him on the head. I never walked out. Yes, I cried. He was my husband. Seventy two years of marriage. I slept there because he was my home. He always told me. "Darling, I wan't to see the world. Do you mind if we sell our home and explore?" All I said was "You are my home." With a smile, after that we held hands under the roof of our house.  We married at about sixteen maybe seventeen years of age. We lived good. "I love you too." I broke. I cried. They escorted me out of there as I watched them finally put the sheet over his head. I screamed. I cried. I did not run when they put me in a room. A lady sat there in front of me and said "Please, don't scream. We will be keeping him here. Until you figure out how, well ether he will be buried or he..." I cut her off. "I understand. May I see him one last time?" I begged "Yes..." She said with a sigh. This will be the last I will see of him. Yet again I say "I love you..." Grasping his chest holding him with all my might.
  I never saw him again; because I ran. I ran from his last day.