Today I saw the first dead person in my whole life.
He died slowly.
It took almost two days until he closed his eyes forever this morning at 6:15.
I knew him since I washed him a couple of days ago and his relatives were so friendly and caring.
They were with him for 1 1/2 days every single hour and they were so exhausted so I asked them why they wouldn't go home and sleep, shower or eat something.
They didn't wanted to leave him alone but yesterday evening they all went home because they were dead beat.
His daughter said: "I feel so terrible to say it but: Why can't he just die finally? His heart is sick since thirty years, why can't it just stop beating?"
The whole waiting and saying goodbye process wore them down.
When I arrived at my ward this morning Nurse A. told me: "You have to take care now of the other patients, Mr. H. died a few minutes ago and we will have to prepare everything."
I went in when I finished all the other work and looked at him.
It was okay.
He was looking peaceful.
The last few days he suffered so much.
I felt relieved.
P. and I wanted to put his watch on again and at first I was scared to touch him.
Would he be cold as ice?
Would it feel weird?
He was still warm and to touch him was just like touching his arm when he was still alive.
When his relatives came they cried and wanted to be hugged for a little while.
It's strange how such a beautiful day can be so unbelieveable sad for someone.
I'm not sure how I feel right now but I guess it's alright.
I just think about things which seemed so important yesterday and somehow aren't since this morning.
I hope Mr. H. relatives will be okay.
I wish them all the best.