I lost him and my life is never going to be the same without my soulmate, my love and my rock. He's been a true fighter, a soldier and a believer in miracles until the last minute. From the time he was diagnosed with this terrible desease in December (8 months ago exactly) until his last moments, he didn't do anything but hope for a cure. But every time I took him back to hospital, I lost a piece of him. The last four weeks were the most agonising for him because he lost his ability to concentrate on anything and he lost a lot of his mobility. He used to read a lot and write and walk around the park every day for an hour. I prayed every day for his cure but my prayers were never answered until these last couple of days at the hospital when I prayed that his pain stops and it did that very night. I miss him like mad but I'm fine with me suffering not him. My baby was loved by everyone, a true human and a gentleman. He loved life and humans alike. He was there for me whenever I needed him. Leaving him last night at the hospital was the hardest thing I've ever had to do and I'm not new to sorrow; I lost my dad too early and my mum suffered with breast cancer. Every corner of the house reminds me of the agony he went through; we've just set up a hospital bed for him a day before his passing and bought him a recliner chair which is still in its box.
Life is so cruel but he's at peace now; no more pain, no more hoping where there was no hope.