They knew she wouldn’t last till morning. When she’d got the diagnosis last year, she’d chosen a time to die. There was no cure. No hope. Only time.

Her loved ones gave her every experience they could in the months that followed. They travelled and celebrated life, the sadness never too far behind them. But M had made peace with her fate.

This was her last night. During the day, her parents and friends took shifts sitting at her bedside and talking. Squeezing a lifetime of conversations into one day wasn’t easy- emotionally and otherwise. There were moments she’d never see: birthdays, graduation, weddings. They shared old stories and plans for a future she would never see. They fit a thousand nights in one day.

The crowds had departed from her house. In tears of sadness and of laughter (grief can do funny things) and holding gifts M had made for them and final photos they had taken. Only her family remained. Her family and him.

J refused to leave. She’d tried to break up with him, push him away, but it never worked. He called her bluffs and held her through the sickness. He knew his heart would shatter come morning, but he wanted her for as long as he could have her. He wondered if he’d ever find a love like hers again.

He described their life to her. Their silly fights, the dog he rescued, their wedding, the birth of their children. Tears streamed down her face, but she couldn’t speak. Her voice was stolen by the inevitable. They held each other as if their worlds would fall apart when they let go. It was almost sunrise.

Her soul had illuminated the lives of so many. J felt like he’d lived an entire lifetime with M. He’d give anything to save her- and he’d tried. The doctors had to restrain him when they gave the news she wasn’t going to make it. He’d screamed himself so hoarse that he couldn’t speak for a day. He would love her forever.

Her family came in. Mom, dad, brothers. They had gentle smiles, but their eyes were red-rimmed and they could only whisper for fear of breaking down. They took seats around her bed. Final messages of love and wishes that this wasn’t the end of her story were shared. They hugged and smelled one another (M mostly smelled like hospital, even though she was at home now) and etched memories of their daughter, sister, and true love into their minds.

The sun was peaking over the horizon. It painted the farm crimson and gold. It had been ages since she’d had the strength to walk the grounds, but her brothers had carried her out yesterday to see the animals one last time.

M put her head on J’s shoulder. He felt underserving of that privilege. Her family members rested their hands on her. She looked out the window and her mom unplugged the machines.