I believe you. I'm the only surviving member of what was our three member nuclear family (four if you count grandma, which I do). Even when someone is terminally ill and you KNOW they're dying, you still cling, without realizing, to some weird hope they can live, a hope demonstrated by the heartbreak that happens when they finally die. To have to be the one who makes that moment finally happen has to be horrible beyond all the rationale that a human being can muster.