The End

Danita and her daughter, Rach.

An hour ago dad called from the hospital (J and I are with my brother and his wife) to tell us that the family is gathered in a conference room across from where Danita is, waiting for her to die. Her breathing is slow and labored now, and she has been unconscious since noon. Her husband asked her if she would like to see anyone else one more time, and her last words were, "Dignity. I want to die with dignity." She didn't want anyone else to see her this way.
So he is holding one hand, and her twin sister is holding the other. Danette made clear a few days ago that she wanted to be in the room when her sister dies. She said, "I was holding her hand coming into this world and I will hold it as she leaves it." I can't even pretend to imagine the connection they have shared for 52 years (their birthday is in 3 days).

She is gone. Just hung up with mom and the nurse can no longer find a heartbeat. She is gone.