There is a mystique out there that a dying person’s last words will contain rare wisdom or will give us a clue about what awaits us in the Beyond. Emily Dickinson’s last words were supposedly, “I must go in, for the fog is rising.” Even if she did say this, for the overwhelming majority of us, the idea of our last words being jam-packed with significance is just a romanticizing of the end of life. The death scenes in many movies of a loved one saying a few brave words, letting out a sigh, and then turning their head away as they painlessly depart are no closer to the truth. Also, I am skeptical of people having the presence of mind at the very end to be witty as in the famous quote by Oscar Wilde, purportedly his last: “This wallpaper and I are fighting a duel to the death. Either it goes or I do.”
Sorry to shatter this myth, but my experience on the job as a hospice chaplain is that last, or close to last words, are often mundane or consist of expressions of discomfort. “I am thirsty.” Or “I’m dizzy.” Or, “What time is it?” Or, “Oh my stomach hurts and I have to go to the bathroom” is more likely. Or something confused, as when I gave a woman some tepid tap water and she said, “That is the most delicious thing I have ever tasted.” There may not be any words at all, of course, if the patient is unresponsive or can no longer verbalize or is unintelligible or incoherent.
If it is any consolation, “next-to-last” words of a person still relatively clear-headed and sans dementia, can have more significance. “I love you” is very common, as are expressions of concern that the patient’s loved one will be able to get along after the patient is gone. Sometimes I do hear questioning of what their lives were all about, or declarations of faith or what has mattered most. One of my patients talked at length about some poems he wrote in a book he gave me as a present. He loved having me listen to him reading a few aloud and getting my reaction. He even asked if I would promote his book in my blog, something I could very much relate to as an author myself. Not many days later his life ended. In his memory I will mention the title of his book: Lifelines by Ben Verona (He chose this name, a pseudonym, because he thought it sounded Jewish and romantic and would attract female Jewish readers!)
Perhaps we want to think literally about final words because of the unknowability of death itself; as if part of what death is all about “seeps” into the final moments of life, throwing us a clue here and there. But unlike a novel or a film, alas for us real people, loose ends are left loose, and the ending after the ending is left undisclosed.