While he's gone, she does her best to sit up, even get out of bed, taking deep breaths to try and keep herself waked up and in the present. To herself she murmurs, "It's okay. I'm right here. He died a long time ago. It's over now. It's done. It's over." It only works for a little while, though, because the feeling doesn't go away, and he's gone, he's somewhere she'll never get to, and she wasn't there when he was dying, she wasn't with her, she wasn't with the boys, and suddenly she's on the floor, hands pressed over her ears again, huddled against the nightstand while the room goes static with the electric pulses.