I did not see her breathing
Just after midnight
I watched, waiting for a breath
But soon grabbed her hand instead
Fingertips were rigid
But then she’s had arthritis forever
Her skin was warm, her face
She exuded such a great heat
I feel no breath
I feel no pulse
The skin on her face was firm
Lacking the bounce we have
Lacking the movement
Through manipulation and touch
I press my fingers to her neck
In search of a pulse
Her skin, the things beneath it
Were rigid, not of rigor mortis
But rather ceasing of life
It appears over the next hour that her skin is vibrant
Moreso than it has been for a while
She is relaxed
No struggle, merely peace
Finally
