One of our friends who is a hospice nurse told us that when her patients have had a very rich or complex life it often takes them much longer to die. I don't recall all of the details, but something about the hypothalamus flipping through the pages of their memory, trying to set things in order.
I don't know if that's true or not. I don't know anything anymore.
But, I want to help her in anyway I can, so we spent the morning reading her journals. I sat next to her, not knowing if she was even able to hear me anymore, but since I've also heard that hearing is the sense that remains the longest, I soldiered on.
We read about when she was little, chores, playing with her sisters, going to dances. There were no smiles today, no lifting her head, but she did say, quite clearly, "D.Rs. Fence" And "for fun, we used to play." So I'm pretty sure she was listening.