“What did he die from?” the doctor asked my sister. “I need it for the death certificate.”

We never got a definitive diagnosis. One week, we thought he had just days to live. Another week, we thought we might have months or even years. And then he was gone.

I walked into his room, and he looked at me. After telling me he had terrible stomach pain, he said, “I won’t be very entertaining today.”

I asked if I could just sit with him.

We had an understanding. He was in too much pain to engage in any meaningful conversation. So I sat with him, and we watched some Tom Selleck Western.

With every passing minute, his pain intensified. Morphine was all that was left to help him.

I couldn’t imagine leaving that night, knowing how much pain he was in. I knew that if I got in the car to go home, I’d feel a pull to turn around and go back.

So I asked my dad if it was okay with him if we had a sleepover.

He said, “Of course.”

I figured out how to unfold the foldout chair, pulled a sheet over the newly opened bed, and motioned for Mia, my loyal Australian Shepherd, to jump up. She did, curling up next to me.

Throughout the night, I listened as the hospice nurses came to check on him, giving him more morphine each time. Finally, I heard him say that he felt less pain. And then I fell asleep.

I was awakened by the attendants bathing him. I listened carefully, facing the other way to give him privacy. Not a word was uttered by my father.

When they finished, the nurse told me he had been in a lot of pain and hadn’t fallen asleep until 2 a.m. The amount of morphine needed to make him comfortable had been significant. She told me it would be a blessing if he didn’t wake up, because it would mean no more pain.

Three hours later, he was gone.

His body was still warm. I saw him stiffen. I checked for breathing and lifted his blanket, still worried he might be cold, even though he was no longer aware.

I didn’t see any movement.

I rang for the nurse, and she confirmed what I already feared.

“He’s not breathing. He’s gone.”

After almost 94 years on this earth, my father was gone.