I ran back to Dad’s bedroom. His breathing had slowed. He was calm. He was peaceful. He would take a deep breath, let it out, and then not take another breath for 15 or 20 seconds.
I had read about this. It is called Cheyne-Stokes breathing. It is the last breathing cycle before death. It can last for minutes to hours to days.
His breathing was slowing down even more.
My sister was monitoring the time between breaths. After 3 minutes we were already up to 30 seconds between breaths. Another one or two or three of those, and then nothing.
My hand was on Dad’s arm just inside the crook of his elbow.
30 seconds, nothing.
45 seconds, nothing.
60 seconds, nothing.
My sister asks, “Is he gone?”
“No, I said. He’s still got a pulse.”
She says: “are you sure it’s not your pulse?” meaning, was I sure that I was not feeling my own pulse. Well, no, I was not.
90 seconds, nothing.
2 minutes, nothing.
Then he gasps, takes in a deep breath in but does not exhale. And the pulse in his elbow fades and disappears.
Dad is gone. It was about 8:20 pm on September 1st, 2019. Mom died 4 days before Memorial Day, and Dad died the day before Labor Day.