Tell A Story in 100 Words or Less, Part 4

The thin whistle came at the end of every breath. A deep inhale, usually interrupted two or three times as he breathed in, holding the air in his lungs. Then the exhale — halting, pausing — and the tiny whistling sound.

Hundreds, if not thousands of times a day I heard this as my grandfather and my father struggled for breath, the whistle becoming overwhelmed eventually by the sound of the machines.

Breathing is something you take for granted. And then one day — no day in particular, just a day — you stop. And it’s over.