At roughly 11:20pm Wednesday August 20, 2014, author, podcaster, and father P.G. Holyfield died surrounded by love. I was one of the many there able to say good bye. I was there; I was sitting at the top of his bed stroking his hair. Both his hands were being held. His legs were clung to too, and his shoulder touched. We each let him feel that he was not alone. We wept as Viv’s words rang out, chanting the names of all those who had reached out to send their words of love.
Her words rang out telling him we had accepted, we loved him, and it was ok to rest.
Because of cancer
I know the pain of laughter
lines cracking from tears.
When someone dies it seems like all you are left with is a world asking questions while you try ever so hard not to cry (while you try ever so hard to stop crying, over and over and over again).
Are you ok?
Where did he die? Was he in pain? Was his family with him?
Do you want to talk?
When did you meet? How did you know him? Were you close?
Do you …?