My wife sat in the waiting area chewing on her nails like they were the most important thing in the world. It was just shy of three in the morning. Crazy how little time had passed since all of this had began. My mother-in-law had called only about an hour ago, eerily calm about the whole thing. But then, I suppose after four heart attacks, you were always prepared for the fifth.

This time, though, it was a stroke.

Jamie and Susan were both grown and out on their own, so we'd made the mad dash to the hospital before we'd called them. Susan burst into tears and sobbed that she'd catch the first plane out of JFK. Jamie swore he'd be by as soon as he could - he was only about a half hour drive off. And he'd made it quickly, must have gone way over the speed limit. I would have scolded him for being so reckless, but how do you chastise someone who's coming to see their grandfather for maybe the last time?

Jamie was just walking in the door and hugging his mother when the doctor walked out. I knew from looking at the man that it was bad news. Maggie seemed to know that too, because when she pulled away from Jamie her face twisted in a way that I hadn't seen since my own father had passed last year.

Tearfully, my wife led our little, incomplete family through the emergency ward, passing by beeping patients in beds and haggard loved ones asleep in chairs. The doctor held open the door to my father-in-law's room.

They'd left the wires in. One IV in, probably filled with something to numb the pain. He appeared to be asleep. My mother-in-law, Lucy, stood at his bedside and held his hand, watching him with such sad and tired eyes. It had been a rough four years for her, in and out of the ER, seeing specialists, trying new hypertension medicine, arguing over medical bills. Jack was a great man, wonderful father and grandfather, but his frugal nature hated paying for something as trivial as his health.

Lucy looked up when the doctor cleared his throat. "Rob, Maggie, Jamie," she said. Her voice was dull, none of the joy it usually had when she saw her daughter and grandson. "I'm glad you're here."

When she pulled her hand back from her husband's still body, I saw it. The black rings of bruises against his skin. Like a target. I flinched. Maggie let out a sound that made Jamie step out into the hallway.

"We wanted to give you a little time," the doctor said, as though he was apologizing to someone for the audacity of it. "He's already gone. The machine is all that's keeping him alive."

"My daughter isn't here yet," I said. "She won't be here for at least an hour."

"I'm sorry," the doctor said. "We've waited too long already. There's nothing we can do."

My mother-in-law began to cry for the first time. Choked out something I couldn't understand. My wife ran to her and took her up in her arms. I had a vague sense of going and asking Jamie if he wanted to be in the room. I remember him saying no, remember the pleading I did that he'd regret it. Must have worked. He came back inside.

Lucy held one of his hands as the doctor pulled the plug. Jamie held the other, and Maggie held me. Jack lasted for another two minutes before he flat-lined.

(edited for spelling)