The room was filled with family and friends, but the atmosphere was gloomy and the infrequent conversation was in hushed tones. He appeared to be asleep, but his labored breathing told the story: he probably wouldn't last the night. Occasionally his eyes would open, but there was a dullness in them that spoke of pain and pain killers and impending death. One sat at his bedside, gently stroking his hand. They all knew this day would come, but wished it could be at some distant point in the future.