Today I watched my daughter die. I held her hand, stroked her hair, told her that she was tired and needed to sleep and she should let us do the work and have the worry. I prayed over her with her other family and watched as she just drifted away.
I was with her from the previous morning and I was with her during the day when she appeared to be getting slightly better and I was with her in the evening when it became clear she was exhausted and couldn't do any more and I was with her when she finally went. I held her hand and could feel the exact moment when her body had had enough and stopped trying to heal. I slept for a couple of hours when she was temporarily stable ish (or at least when she was no longer responding but was not going to die for at least another couple of hours), and then I came back and stood by her head and stroked her hair and somehow sang to her and told her to sleep well.
My daughter is dead. Everything I do, say, think, feel, is interrupted by that. It makes no sense - my daughter is dead. How can there be a world that doesn't know her, how can she not be here? How can I still need to eat and drink and move when she doesn't and how can she not?
My daughter is dead.