My father had been home on hospice care for a couple months, and I was spending many nights at his house to help take care of him. My mother and I were his primary caregivers. He spent the last few weeks of his life on a hospice bed in the living room. His breathing was labored and regular. Even though he appeared unconscious, I wanted to be sure he was not suffering, so I made sure to give him pain medication every four hours as prescribed.

During the morning before he died, I was sleeping on the floor in the den adjacent to the living room. I was only about six feet away from him. I slept there so I could hear if there was any change in his condition. I woke to hear my mother saying goodbye to him before she left for work. She said, "Please don't go, Bob. I'll only be gone a little while."

I heard the door close as my mother left. I listened to my father's still regular but labored breathing noting no change and went back to sleep.

I was lying on my side sleeping when I felt someone pushing on my back frantically and saying "Wake up! Wake up! It's time! It's time!!" I sat up and without using my voice I said, "Why are you waking me up?"

No one was visible in the room, yet somehow I heard someone and I answered back. It was like communicating telepathically but stronger and clearer, like we were projecting our thoughts without speaking. The communication back to me was the the same: "It's time! It's time!!" I could feel the excitement of this being. It was like one thousand times more excitement than a child going to Disneyland for the first time. That's the best way I can think of to describe it. As I felt the being leave the room, I heard my father's breathing change. His breathing sounded totally different. He took three last breaths that sounded like small puffs of air.

I jumped up and ran around his bed not knowing what to do. I realized I was being silly running circles around him. There was nothing I could do, so I sat next to him and held his hand. It was still warm. I sat with him and held his hand until it went cold because I didn't want him to die alone. Something told me, however, that he had already left his body right before his last three breaths and that it was him who was telling me how happy he was that it was his time to go.

I called my mother at work to tell her he died. She cried and was angry he passed away after she left. I believe he waited for my mother to leave the house to die because she was having a hard time letting him go.