The primary focus for my mother's life had always been her family. That was why we all knew that it was important for my brother to make it all the way from California, and when it looked like her health was going down hill rapidly, he looked for an earlier flight and had to run for it, but he made it in last night.
The word had gone out, and last night the little hospice room was packed with relatives. Three of the four kids, the local grandkids and great-grandkids were all there and everybody had a chance to greet her, and in spite of the pain medicines she was able to talk with us all. It was quite a party, one that she'd been looking forward to for some months, although maybe not in this setting. At one point, she asked, "Who's taking pictures?" Cell phones came out and clicked away.
Then, shortly before midnight, my brother arrived and they had time to talk. Not long after that, surrounded by her loving family, exhaustion and medication took their toll and she went to sleep after a very good, long, day.
She never really woke up the next morning, and her decline ended in the afternoon, peacefully.