ADVERTISEMENT
’m going to order the finest coffin for you.”
The husband leaned close and whispered the words into his wife’s ear, certain they would disappear into the quiet hum of machines and sterile hospital air. To him, this was a private moment. A cruel one, yes, but safe. Unheard. Unanswered.
For more than two weeks, his wife had lain motionless in a hospital bed after a devastating accident. She hadn’t opened her eyes. She hadn’t spoken. Doctors explained the situation gently but firmly: her condition showed little improvement, and the likelihood of recovery was extremely low. Machines were doing most of the work now.
They spoke of difficult decisions. Of compassion. Of letting go.
The husband nodded in understanding. Too quickly, perhaps.
Because this was not a shock to him.
This was something he had been quietly preparing for. Continue reading…
Continue READING
ADVERTISEMENT