I keep thinking about the moment of death when the body just stops breathing, for whatever reason. As a nurse for 47 years, I’ve witnessed many of these last moments. Some were not that peaceful; others left the watchers with a shock at how simple it was.
I remember standing with one family waiting and waiting for that next breath until I realized, it wasn’t going to happen. Then I had to return to being the nurse again. I hold it in my memory though: that watchful expectation, never fully comprehending that I’d already viewed the last breath.
We just don’t know when the last of anything is going to be, that is, we can’t name it as the ‘last’ until we get a different perspective from down the road of life.
“Ah, THAT was the last time we danced or sang or made love.” Typically, we didn’t even know it at the time.
I don’t think we hold such memories of “That was our last fight!” or “That was the last time he forgot to put the toilet seat down.” Those observations don’t seem to be part of the cataloguing of memorable moments, which is probably a good thing. The list is long enough if we really want to spend time making one.
The last of anything is just what it says it is. The re-occurrence of any activity in just that manner will never repeat itself. Ever!
In my case, my late husband will never again wear that dickey hat hanging on the hallway hook. I can leave it there to trigger a thought of him or I can pass his hat on to someone else who may wear it. I won’t. I look ridiculous in it. Nor will he ever wear any of his shoes or clothes, but someone might.
He won’t make his special popcorn, but I can make my own, or not. He won’t take my hand and tug me out of my chair and book saying, “Let’s take a walk.” I do sense a whisper in my ear to that effect sometimes.
With his last breath, which made me cry in grief that his life was over and weep with relief that he didn’t have to suffer anymore, he gave his all to his life, our marriage, to me, and to himself. I can only do as much for my own and make more moments memorable and life sustaining until one of them becomes my last.
