I want to go with them...

The old man was tired. He sat in a chair next to his hospital bed, his daughter across from him, the supper tray between them. She'd been there most of the day. "I like to be here for meal times, to make sure he eats something. If you don't watch him, he goes straight for the dessert." The patient winked at me, and twitched a faint grin.
He was getting weaker, and it took three of us to get him back to bed and settled in for the evening. He wanted something for pain. I got him the pills and hung his IV antibiotic. He'd been here for over a week, and just wasn't making progress.
It was bedtime. I asked about his pain, and he said he was fine, "I'm really doing alright now." I headed down the hall to check on my other patients.
The CNA tidied him up, propped him up with an extra pillow to ease his breathing and asked if he needed anything. "I want to go over there, with them", he replied, pointing toward the wall. She gently told him there wasn't anybody there, and it was time to go to sleep anyway. He looked at the wall again, and nodded at her.
The phone rang at the desk. It was a call from the CCU monitors, "Go and check on #23. He's tracing asystole (flatline)."
There were no respirations. I put my stethoscope on his silent chest and listened; then marked the time by the clock on the wall. He was a DNR. I turned off his IV and oxygen. He had gone with them.