My husband's mother has been sick for a while. Six years ago, she went in for routine bloodwork and found out she had a huge tumor in one of her kidneys. They removed it in it's entirety and she did great for several years. Maybe two years ago, the other kidney had enough and she reluctantly, grudgingly started dialysis three times a week. The week of Christmas, she fell on the way to the dialysis van and while she didn't break anything, the news wasn't good. Her body was riddled with cancer, if there was a spot it could be, it was there. Two weeks ago, on the weekend of his birthday, my husband flew up to say goodbye. After making the decision to stop all treatment, Mom passed away this past Sunday in her home surrounded by her family. We put him back on a plane Monday for one last trip. It's been hard. Hard because we had to send him by himself, hard because he knows that this will be his last trip home and hard because he had to say goodbye to his mother.