witness

I can still remember the very end.  I wanted to watch them roll my brother's lifeless body out the door and to the van.  I'm not sure why.  It felt a moral necessity, to be there as a witness to everything - his last pain, his last breath, his last trip out of the house.  So I held the door open as they made their way out in the half light of morning.  I stood their numbly not knowing what to do next.  The nurse then turned to me and said, "you did a good job."  That floored me.  I usually don't crave, or even need reassurance.  An intuitive compass, so to speak.  But when she told me that, I teared up and we hugged.  To hear it from another medical professional, especially one in a hospice setting, meant something to me.