Last Breaths

My brother died at 5:07 a.m. on June 10, 1994. Rob said people often die at dawn so not to have to face another day. He was right.
Those breaths. Those last breaths. Breathing labored for so long.
So many hours of up down up down. Of watching a chest go up down and waiting for the breath to stop and wondering how it would be. How does one take the last breath? And we sat and watched and stood in a circle around the bed. Around a body so cold and purple that it was hard to imagine he was still alive and yet he was still breathing and yet so resembled a narrow, pointed, grey corpse. And the breath, relentless and fast as if he were running a marathon - Oh God and wasn’t he and we wanted to relax him so his breathing would be easier, calmer, quieter it was so loud and frantic . Pounding its way through the long night of vigil what were we waiting for?
His last breath.
We wanted to be there and to see it and, to what? Hear it? We so curious and loving, wanting to be a part of every aspect of his life, we had to see his death. How does one die?
Now as I remember those last breaths, he slowed. It slowed and his body so cold and purple I could no longer stand to hold his hand but I did
And I stared at his chest and his face and his breath grew into shallow exhalations
As if he were a fish out of water.
Was he suffocating? Being robbed of the breath? Or was he letting go of life?
He drew in his last breath after a wince and began to suck, almost vacuum in the air
Bottom teeth showing.
It was strong and loud and tight and desperate.
And then he exhaled. And as the breath left his body, the color left his face - from his chin up over his lips and his nose, his cheekbones and eye sockets and forehead and he turned a waxen yellow as his face collapsed around the chiseled features of his bones. And I held my breath as with that one breath, he expired. Perfect word for what he did. Expired. And then I gasped. Mother sighed. And Peggy said, “He’s passing.”
And then it was so quiet.
Breathing that had been so labored . Laboring for what?
To give birth to his spirit? And then there was peace.
Oh God the breath that was the focus for so many hours and the heaviness of that time. My heavy heart, carrying the breath. I tried to breathe for him. I did.
I sat and breathed trying to make it easier.
Breathe.
Breath.
And in fact there was relief.