The Room Went Quiet

I'm not ready to put my name on this one yet, but I need it written down somewhere. I'd been sitting with my mother in hospice for three days straight in Albuquerque, barely sleeping, when the room went quiet in a way that had nothing to do with sound. It was more like the air got full, like something larger than either of us stepped into that room and gathered her up gently right before she passed. I felt held by it too, calm instead of the panic I expected. I've told exactly two people about this. I'm still deciding what to call what was in that room, but I know it wasn't nothing.