The caregiver tries to allay his fears. It's OK to let go, but it's not happening yet. Bruce coughs and is agitated for about an hour, then settles into sleep, his breathing smooth and regular. The CD player has ceased playing. Clara sits back in a deep, soft chair to look through a couple of the relationship self-help books Bruce has written, glancing up at her patient frequently.
Death is really a very ordinary thing in some ways.
Our bodies know how to do this. It's a built-in program that our heads don't know how to do. Bruce sleeps quietly through the night, and when golden-pink sunlight tinctures snowy Longs Peak, visible in springtime splendor through Bruce's window, Clara believes he might have settled into a coma and might not speak again. But he will speak clearly once more. Erika Christiansen, a nurse's aide with Boulder County Hospice, shaves Bruce while his step-daughter Kelle and her boyfriend, Alex Ashton, watch.