I was both the first and last person to convey this message to him. I leaned in both times and said, “I love you, beanie, I’m going to miss you every day, but it’s okay for you to go. No one is going to be mad at you.” I then slipped a handwritten note into his clenched fist, which by then had become fairly cold. “You are loved,” it read.
Wednesday the 27th was the last day Andrew was awake. Just before he went back to sleep for the final time, I told him, “I love you.” He raised his eyebrows and mustered the energy to say four words back. These words would be the only words he would speak that day and the last words he would physically speak ever. “I love you, too.”