“How long does he have?” I asked. “A couple of hours,” she said, as Marilyn sobbed in Bob’s arms. “Maybe more. Maybe less.” The nurse then echoed something we’d heard from a myriad of hospice personnel over the past two months when the topic turned to what to expect in his final hours: “He can hear you. Talk to him. Tell him you love him. Assure him that you will be OK without him.” The nurse offered to return later tonight to check on him again. I thanked her. Bob showed her out. Marilyn took a seat on the other side of Kit, clutched his left hand, and whispered, “Kit, it’s OK. We’re going to
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