What undid me was the patience.

A crime of passion is a terrible thing, but it is at least a human thing, a person overcome in a moment.

This was the opposite of a moment.

This was a decision made in cold blood and then maintained, day after day, meal after meal, across the ordinary surface of family life, a son sitting at his father’s table and asking after his health, all courtesy and concern, while quietly arranging for that health to fail.

I have cared for many dying people, and held many hands at the end, and I did not think anything about death could shock me anymore.