LAST
WORDS
The
other day I was scanning some family pictures and came across one
that had been among my mother’s things when she passed away. It was
a picture of my daughter combing my father’s hair. I know the day,
month, and year it was taken—Saturday, July 28. 1984. My parents
had come to celebrate our daughter’s third birthday.
My
parents left the next day and went home. I hugged my father and said,
“I love you, Daddy.” He hugged me back and said he loved me, too.
I watched them drive away. Three days later on Tuesday, we got a
call. Daddy had been killed in an accident.
Several
years later, Mother moved to the town where I live. Through the
almost 20 years she was here, we traveled from mother and daughter to
friends, then finally to me looking after her (even though she still
lived in her own house). The night before she passed away, she called
me before she went to bed, and said how much she loved me, then
thanked me for looking after her. She ended with telling me she loved
me, and I told her I loved her. The next morning we found
unconscious, and she never regain consciousness.
If
I pass before they do, I hope that the last words my husband and
children hear from me are words of love and thankfulness, words that
will help them in their grief and bring comfort to their hearts.
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