It was the same for me, my father held one hand and I held the other and stroked her hair telling her it was ok for her to go as she took her last breath.  She was in tremendous pain for the last week and was heavily medicated, but I never missed the chance to tell her I loved her, believing that she could hear me.  The memory of her dying is so hard, I spent the first week in tears.  I still cry often and now am left with sadness and sorrow. I feel blessed to have been there when it was her time and to have had the chance to tell her how much I loved her and that brings me some peace.