At 5 am we received the dreaded call we had been expecting but praying we would never have to answer. Our beloved was ready to go home. Our family is no stranger to death. We thought we knew how this was going to go. We knew we had the chance to say goodbye and that the most important thing was for us to be there. Not everyone gets that. We had come from all over the states of Kentucky/Tennessee the day before. Our hope was big, but COVID-19 was bigger.
Kristen called us, and on her instinct, she told us to go ahead on come on in. She had taken care of our greatest joy, love, husband, dad, papaw, great grand papaw for the past couple of nights. Working tirelessly with him. Changing his drips. Changing his fluid bags. Maintaining his wellbeing. Administering medication. Cleaning him. Talking to him. Advocating for him. Communicating for his human body. Turning him. She kept her eyes on his monitor night after night. And when she had her gut feeling, she called us. Our precious, loving, selfless, god-fearing man told her "I think it's time. Please call my family." Due to visiting restrictions, we could not be there throughout the night. We were not physically there to see him with her, but I know in my heart she fought and worked and worked and worked on him, for him. For his wife. For his children. For his grandchildren. For his great-grandchildren.