Read an excerpt A Final Farewell: Harold Wood sat beside his wife’s bed. The white clinical sheets, all ruffled from her tossing and turning, lay across her body as she slowly breathed, the air rattling as it filled her lungs. Outside, the busy ward echoed with the low hum of quiet speech and laughter in equal measure, but they were apart from it all in a small private room at the bottom of the corridor. A cloudless, blue sky was visible through the large square window beside the bed, but the sight brought him no solace and may as well shown roiling clouds filled with the promise of torrential rainstorms for all he cared. Staring down at his hands, not wanting to look at her lying there grimacing periodically, as wave after wave of pain coursed through her delicate frame. Harold began counting the brown age spots on the back of his hands before frowning at the grey hair supplanting what was once, a long time ago, brown. His distraction techniques had been well practiced in the past few days; since she had become less responsive, and pain regularly written on her beautiful face. As he moved his hands to pick imaginary fluff from his grey trousers, her hand flinched. The movement caught his attention, and he watched as her slim fingers lifted slightly and flexed invitingly. So, he took her hand in his for the first time since he’d arrived in that room twenty minutes before. It fit like a glove. It always had. As he held her hand, he noted that her soft skin felt wonderful. He looked down at it in wonder. All these years those hands had lifted, cleaned, and wiped their children’s snotty faces and soiled bottoms but, for all of that, they never lost their beauty. He raised her hand up and then placed it on his cheek. The warmth he felt from her touch filled his eyes with tears. For the first time today, he looked into those blue eyes he loved so much. They were still as clear as mountain pools, yet he saw her suffering, along with the fear that came with the knowledge of what that brought. This moment was coming, and they knew it. For three weeks they had prepared for it. She’d told him, "Harold, don't you go getting all emotional when the time comes. I need you to be the strong man I married; you hear me?" He had agreed. At the time he thought he could be strong, but sitting here now, seeing his wife clinging to life filled him with helplessness and fear. Yet he placed a smile on his face as he gazed into her eyes. All the while knowing, he could do absolutely nothing to ease her pain. His chest ached as he tried to smile. Tears rolled down Harold’s face. He had to look away. He returned his attention to the hand he was holding.