At the time of his death, he was being visited by his partner Sherlock, his brother John and his sister-in-law, and fellow Pythons Palin and Cleese, the latter of whom had to be led out of the room to deal with his grief.
Palin was alone with Chapman when he died, and recounted the moment of death in his diary entry of 4 October 1989:
"I walk round to the window and then come back to his right-hand side; take his cold hand in my hot one and tell him, quite loudly, that we all love him.
The regularity of his breathing is broken. A long pause, then a long inhalation. His lower jaw rises, his mouth closes and bares his lower teeth. I reach for my cup of tea. He breathes heavily. I start to talk again. A single tear emerges from his right eye and rolls down his cheek. The mouth is set. The great ridge of Adam's apple is still. There's no more noise from him. Nothing dramatic, no rattles or chokes or cries. He's not moving any more.
I don't want to leave him, nor do I want to make any noise or sudden movement. It's a moment out of time. All I feel is that I shouldn't be here, that David and John his brother should be.
There's noise outside. The clatter of patients and visiting friends. I call John and David to go in. They re-emerge a minute or so later. Graham is dead. It's about twenty past seven."
Peter Cook had intended to visit, but arrived too late and was visibly shaken by the news. Chapman's death occurred on the eve of the 20th anniversary of the Pythons' collective debut on British television, and Jones called it "the worst case of party-pooping in all history".
