The wife was holding her hand when she left. The old woman had a Pulsox on, and the wife watched it go up over 300, and then drop to zero. She had stuck around to see her son, who had flown up from San Diego to be with her, and then she just let go. She let out a sigh, and now, she is somewhere else.
The wife and her partner are just this moment going into our favorite Mexican restaurant to feast, drink Margaritas, and defuse. It's a ritual.
Not a job I would choose, but it pays the bills, and she gets breaks between clients. Because they always, always die. These women who choose to do this are our modern day Sin Eaters, I think. Like the Reaper, when you see one of them show up at your house, you know it is going to be over, soon.
The wife says she feels the Hand of God working through her, at these times. And that every, every, every client has acknowledged God in the end, not out of fear, or desperation, but in total peace. No matter what their previous life was like. This old dead bat was a real bitch, by all accounts. With her body still cooling in the room, the wife and the woman's son joked about how she used to be. Reminiscing.
Well, it is finished. For this one, anyway.
But there's always more...