My great uncle basically died the same way. He was this mountain of a man, farmer, gave off that vibe that he could break you in half with a pinky if he wanted. But he was always the nicest guy and his wife was probably the sweetest person I've ever met. We used to go up to their house every Thanksgiving (8 hour drive). His wife developed brain cancer and died. We went up to visit him maybe a month after it happened. He was in a care home. He didn't really respond to us and he probably weighed 60 pounds. Skin and bones, just waiting to die. He died the next week. That's my "sweet but fucked up" story.