The breathing stopped.

It was the middle of a bright, sunny day, a Friday, July 23. Betsy, Missy and I were all by Jarvis’s bed. Some of us were sitting on the floor, and we all had laptops. Jarvis lay on his side, the way he always slept. His breathing had become more labored, but the hospice nurse the day before had said he had lapsed into unconsciousness. We were still happy to hear him breathe. We typed. Earlier, Jarvis had seemed to enjoy the quiet click of keys on our laptops.

One of us must have looked up. It was so quiet. We all three realized then that the breathing had stopped.

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