Standing in the hallway now. Bleach and that fake lemon spray they use to hide the smell of old people I guess. He's finally gone. Ten years of him not knowing my name or where he was or why he was trying to eat the TV remote. It's finally over. I feel kind of... light? Like I could just float out of here and go get a burger or something. That makes me a garbage person probably. Everyone else is crying and I’m just thinking about a double cheeseburger. Mom is still in the room. Doing the whole thing. The crying. The praying. The "what will the family back home think" thing. We moved here for a better life and he spent half of it forgetting he even lived here.