Last Words

I just got off the phone with my grandpa. He'll be going in for a second surgery in a few moments. Things don't look good and I am faced with the reality that he might not make it.

People tend to die quicker than we would like them to. They leave at inconvenient times, like when you are asleep or in another part of the country. Rarely do people have the opportunity to say a few final words knowing that there might not be a next time.

The question is, what do you say? Do you try to sum up a lifetime worth of experiences, maybe talk about that time that you turned the wheel on the boat while your grandfather was untangling string that you caught in the motor? Maybe he'd laugh about the glasses that were still at the bottom of the lake. They are still there aren't they?

The problem is, there is really nothing left to say other than I love you, or maybe thank you. And in an instant the phone is pulled from their ear and you face the reality, the possibility of losing earthly access to a lifetime of experiences, memories, recipes, suggestions, family stories, and songs from the fifties about a man who gets fired from a Chicago department store for getting frisky with the female customers.

It is cliche' but sometimes things are cliche' because they are continually true. You don't realize what you have until it's gone.