I remember the last 36 hours before he passed away. I mean, I remember the whole 20 months he fought for his life, but, especially, the last 36 hours. I remember that my brother and I had to carry him from the bathroom to his bed because he was too weak to walk. My mother tucked him in and told him she loved him. He said,"I love you more." That was their thing.
From there he would fall asleep never to regain consciousness. Within hours Death-Rattle would start. Death-rattle is a breathing where the lungs start to fill with fluid. When this starts,a person is, literally, hours from death. It is the most horrendous sound to listen to. Like the person is trying to breath in tar. We heard this for 36 hours.
At times, I can close my eyes and picture him. He was laying on his back, his right leg bent slightly, and his head cocked to the right with his neck bent downward. His mouth was open with his tongue slightly over his bottom teeth, but not hanging over his lip. I can hear his breathing.
I still hear him breathing.