And in his eyes, meeting mine, I could see that he understood every single thing that was happening around him.

I have tried many times to imagine what those weeks had been like for him, and I cannot fully do it, because I do not think the mind is built to hold such a thing for long.

To be fully awake, fully aware, your thoughts as sharp as they ever were, and yet unable to move a hand or shape a word.

To lie there while people you had known your whole life stood at the foot of your bed and spoke of you as already gone, and to be unable to cry out, unable to tell them you were still there, still listening, still a man.