My mom died a little over a year ago of complications from lung cancer. The complications happened to be two massive heart attacks, which were completely unexpected.
She suffered the first one at home and the second one in the hospital. The hospital was really cool about letting my dad and I stay with mom.
I would be with her during the day and dad took the night shift. She was in and out of consciousness most of the time, so it was mostly just sitting holding her hand or reading.
My dad stayed the night the day she died, and later, as we were driving home he said that at about 4:00 in the morning, her face had cleared and she sat up in bed, took my dads hand in both of hers and said, "You know, we’ve had a pretty good run."
That was my mom, down to a T.
No need for hugs or anything, just something I felt like sharing.
That certainly beats out my mother’s last words.
She was quite bitter about being on her death bed at 67 when all her older sisters and brothers were in fine health. She told them a bitter “Life is not fair!” over and over until they could no longer understand her.
