Last Words
I was putting on mascara in the bathroom mirror when Joe called out from the kitchen to ask me where something was. “Ah nunno,” I mumbled back to him, trying not to break my concentration.
The act of mumbling caused me to immediately remember my brother Danny’s last words, three hours before he died. With his consent, the nurse on duty had taken off his life support. “Ihm awright,” he was barely able to say.
But he wasn’t alright. He was dying. How could he say he alright?
He tried to say something else, but it came out in an undecipherable garble. It didn’t seem to matter too much at the time. He had told us he was alright. We were beyond needing language.
But now I find myself wondering. What else was he trying to say? Did we miss something? What did he want to tell us that he couldn’t?
It’s been six years since Dan died and I think I’m wondering what he was trying to say because Im craving to hear what he thinks and to hear his voice again. With Dan, the past is all I have to puzzle together because there is no present day conversation and no future to plan or imagine.
Post note: Read an excerpt titled The White Feather from The Jim and Dan Stories about losing Dan HERE. Other samples from the book are HERE.
January 8th, 2008 9:26 am
I’d like to think he was probably saying “I love you all, thanks and good-bye…see you all later”
Those would be my last thoughts were I in his position.
Have you ever tried to go to someone who puts you in touch and can receive messages from those who are beyond? We have a guy in our town who is really good. It’d be interesting anyway to see if he had anything.
January 8th, 2008 9:31 am
Yes, I did, soon after Jim and Dan died. There is a story about that in the book. From what I recall the psychic did have some insight into how they died, who they were, and she did tell me they were helping each other. It was helpful at the time when I was grasping for anything to understand, but I think over time it wears off and I begin to doubt what I only lean towards believing about an afterlife.
January 8th, 2008 9:33 am
How I wish my mom would pay me a visit! There’s so much I didn’t say and so much I want to know…
January 8th, 2008 3:37 pm
every time i read a post about the deaths of your brothers i feel so sad. i don’t know how i could handle losing my sister. i am sorry you have gone through such loss.
January 8th, 2008 3:43 pm
you have held me captive for more time than i can afford!
Goodbye till later.
January 8th, 2008 3:46 pm
I am such a young student in this ongoing course on trying to penetrate the mystery of death. Sometimes I feel like hanging up a LOST or WANTED sign with my brother’s faces on it and send out a search party.
Thanks for your comments — here and there — jfrancishill.
January 8th, 2008 5:52 pm
Colleen — my heart goes out to you.
I lost my dad in a half hour time span due to sudden heart failure, and my mom in 2 weeks after a massive stroke. No goodbyes were possible, but it was very clear in my mom’s gradual leaving that she was in the presence of both worlds. She saw my deceased father in the room with us and was quite clam and clear about it. I can’t tell you how relieved I felt that she knew she wasn’t alone. She was blind and paralyzed but she told us how lucky she was to be so loved.
I’m sure that your brothers felt the same, and are around you now.
Why do I still feel so strongly? I did a meditation yesterday where I asked my mom how I could be sure that I wasn’t mis-interpreting the times I sense her near me. The answer that came to me was: you’ll see a White Feather.
Thank you for the message.
January 8th, 2008 5:55 pm
I, too wish we could find out what he was saying. Maybe one of us will have a dream about him and find out. I look at pictures these days and seeing them as pre and post or that was before death took over. xo
January 8th, 2008 5:59 pm
Ah! Did you click on the white feather story? Here’s another about a black feather that came to me when before and after my father’s death. http://looseleafnotes.com/notes/2006/06/the_black_feather.html
Dan did say he saw our brother Jimmy. When we asked him he nodded ‘yes.’ He was also involved in some conversation and illumination earlier in the day that he died, reaching out and touching what we couldn’t see and listening and looking utterly engaged. Maybe he wanted to tell us about that. We did feel some comfort at the thought that they had each other, as you probably did with you mom and dad, Sunny.
I do love those dreams, She.
January 8th, 2008 6:06 pm
I love it when you write about your brothers…you have such a deep love for them…can’t wait to read the book!!! It is next on my list!
January 8th, 2008 6:08 pm
It’s all so hard to understand. I am currently grieving a loss of a friend. I was at the house on Friday when his wife found him. I sat with her for the rest of the day…until their two daughters came home from school. I took them to my house (they didn’t know about their dad yet) so, the adults could get themselves together enough to break the news to them. It has been a difficult weekend. Things will be better though.
Thinking of your brothers….xoxo
January 8th, 2008 6:19 pm
xo, Tammy.
January 8th, 2008 9:21 pm
Something about this one just hit me in the pit of my stomach. I’d probably obsess wanting to know what he said since I myself in obessed with knowing what the actual passing over is like. I always am curious as to if you see angels or good things or if it is scary. I feel comforted when I hear people say they see their loved ones who have gone before…as I was reading in your comments.
January 8th, 2008 9:29 pm
There was a lot of grace at and after Danny’s death that carried us through. Death can feel holy, like a birth. But some of this wears off and the doubting mind and the missing comes in. I’m just thankful that Dan was lucid enough to agree to taking the life support off so we didn’t have to make that decision for him. In many ways I feel like he and Jim are pioneers, my heroes. Because they have faced death and made the journey I hope it will be easier when it’s my time.
January 9th, 2008 1:43 am
when my old college roommate died 9 years ago of melanoma, hospice staff told us that she might begin to speak to people who did not appear to be in the room; she may want us to open a window or a door; she may look like she was conducting an orchestra (ascites). she did all of these things. she spoke to those we could not see (some of this nonsensical and jumbled), she asked me to open the door in the room that went out onto a patio (a cold Feb night), and she moved her arms in the air as though she were conducting musicians. apparently there are some very common aspects and activities involved in the dying process which likely relates to the change in body chemistry, blood oxygen, and toxins in the blood when the kidneys and liver are not functioning well.
January 9th, 2008 9:02 am
Sky, yes, that’s a lot like what happened to Danny. I think it likely can be explained scientifically and/or spiritually and maybe it is a combination. Who knows really? Whatever it was Dan seemed to be enlightened by it. I was aware of some other changes related to Dan’s inability to release toxins and organ failure, such as spells of anger that were unlike him and his garbled speech. Thank you for sharing that story.
January 9th, 2008 8:21 pm
I’m sure your brothers will make it very loving and embracing as they welcome you into the next world…realm..or whatever lies ahead.
January 10th, 2008 11:50 pm
Yes, those words stay with us. My dad said “green grapes” which we races to the store to get, but he was never able to eat them before he died. It was that act though that stayed with me.