I didn’t feel panic or fear. I felt grace. I had spent days, weeks, months with Dad as his disease progressed. We had said everything we wanted or needed to say to each other. Now he couldn’t talk and he could only see me if I stood next to his bed. So I did. We looked into each others’ eyes and I had the uncanny, déjà vu feeling of looking into my newborn sons’ eyes. Caring for someone in this end-state is very much like caring for someone in the beginning-state. Dad’s eyes searched mine, much like my babies’ eyes searched mine. And I met their gaze with love, reassurance, warmth, and strength. I said with my eyes and, to Dad, with words: I love you. You are safe. You are not alone. I am here. Other people love you, too. We are with you.