Connie seemed to be very comfortable on Saturday and Sunday. We had some visitors at the hospital who wanted to see Connie and whisper a message to her. She was never conscious, but I think there is a good chance she may have heard them.

On Monday, Connie's breathing was much more difficult, but she remained unconscious. The doctors and hospice personnel adjusted her medications throughout the day to keep her as comfortable as possible. At the end of the day, she seemed more relaxed than she had been all day.

Paige was with me throughout the weekend and on Monday. Honestly, she helped keep me sane during the insanity of watching a loved one transition to death.

Monday night, when it was time to go home and feed Molly, I leaned down, like I did every night, and said, "Connie, I'm going home and take care of Molly. I'll rest and be back first thing in the morning. I love you with all my heart." Then I kissed her goodnight.

Throughout the weekend, when I would leave, I spoke to the nurses and asked them to call me at any time during the night if Connie seemed to be spiraling. I would be there quickly.

I fed Molly and made a phone call. When I hung up the phone, it rang. It was the hospital. I thought this might be the signal that she was starting to spiral. I grabbed my coat as I answered. The Hospice nurse told me that Connie had passed.

For a moment, I couldn't believe my ears. I asked, "She's dead?" The nurse calmly told me that she had passed. She simply stopped breathing. I was suddenly overwhelmed with grief and couldn't respond to the question about which funeral home we would use. I told her I wanted to be with Connie and would come right over.

She died at about 8:30 PM Monday.

As I drove to the hospital, I called family and a few friends to let them know that Connie was gone. I don't remember much of that drive.

When I walked into her room, she looked utterly serene, like the many times we might watch a movie late at night, and she would fall asleep on the couch next to me. I kissed her forehead and apologized for not being there when she died. She was still warm, and I sat next to her and held her hand.

The hospice nurse came in and said, "Wow, Connie is sure loved." I agreed and told her that she had many friends and family members who loved her deeply. She said, "No, you don't understand what I mean. When the nurse saw Connie stop breathing, he went out to tell the staff that she had passed. I was there then, and everybody gasped, and a few began to cry. I don't see that kind of reaction for patients when they die."

She also told me that Hospice people see this all the time. She explained that she doesn't know how they seem to know when you are in the room, but many of them "wait" until you leave to die.

After selecting a funeral home, she called them, and they said they would be right out. "They will probably be here within the hour," she said, continuing, "You don't need to be here."

I told her I wanted to stay with Connie until they arrived. She left the room, and I sat with Connie one last time, studying her face and hand. The life I couldn't imagine without Connie was here, and I would need to find a way to navigate it. But for the time being, I just wanted to be with her.

When the funeral home arrived and after expressing their condolences, they suggested that I would not want to see her transferred to the gurney, so I said, "Goodbye," and gathered the flowered blanket that covered her that friends purchased for her when she was first diagnosed, and the sheet that the paramedics took from her bed at home, when they transported her to the hospital.

I walked slowly down the hall towards my car. Staff members would stop me to express their sorrow, hug me, or say how much they enjoyed getting to know us.

I was very sad at that time, but I kept it together. I got home, walked in the door, and threw the blanket and sheet on the utility room floor, knowing that I would need to wash them. Molly ran up to them and began smelling them. Then, her tail wagged wildly, and she started jumping around. That's when I lost it. She ran and jumped in my arms. I cried and told Molly that Connie would not be coming home. I sank to the floor and wept until I had no more tears. Molly stayed with me and licked my face.

I am sorry it took me so long to post about Connie's passing. I needed time, and there have been so many things to arrange.

I also want to apologize for all the times I neglected to thank family and friends for the many acts of compassion and kindness over this entire illness. For the donations, feeding us, taking care of our yard, helping with trash, sitting with Connie so I could catch my breath, and the cards and gifts that have poured in. Thank you all for this. I would not have been able to get through this journey without your love and support.

We will say goodbye to Connie and then celebrate her life next week. She always told me she wanted a party when she died, so we will do that. Visitation, funeral service, and celebration details are at https://www.goesfuneralcare.com/obituaries/Connie-Schreckengast/#!/Obituary.

If you can't attend in person but would like to participate in the service, we will livestream the event for people far away. Watch the obituary for these details as they become available.

Thank you for all the love.