I knew it was coming. Been preparing myself for it for 3 years. But he always hung on, always pulled through, always came out the other side only a little worse for the wear. I knew this time would be different. I also knew I'd be doing it alone once he told me he was ready.
Obviously 3 years of knowing it was eventually going to catch up to him doesn't lessen the pain. Doesn't help that we still don't know what it is.
The last couple of months were spent watching him closely, making sure he was still breathing every morning, telling him it was ok to ask for help, doing what I could to make him comfortable and happy, telling him I wasn't going to hold him to "I'll live forever", telling him it was ok to leave if he had to, just to let me know when he was ready.
He finally told me. I got the message loud and clear. And just in case I missed it or wasn't sure he meant it, he gave me a second sign he was finally ready a few hours later.
So I had the rest of the weekend to say goodbye, to prepare myself for this one last time.
My sweet baby boy is gone. Never to physically follow me where ever I go again.