Necessary to Life

I drove by the hospital where you took your last breath today.  Counted up to the 9th floor. Room 916. The question I asked comes to mind.  

"ARE YOU READY"?

You nod yes. The 20 inch tube is pulled from your throat. "I love you, Mom", holding your hand.  I watch you turn purple then white as you slip away.  It seems you are a shell as your soul leaves for different places and spaces.  I walk away and look up and around. Now Where?