In the End

The present is so much around me. Yet, what is Now gives life to thoughts of what will happen at my end.

The banter is a welcome sound to my soul. Nearby, just a sofa-length away, my son and middle daughter are discussing their ways of the world. Within me is a discussion between my heart and my soul that reminds me of how much I love these moments. I am also reminded of how much I dread the moment when they will never be again.

I look at the two of them, holding back the tears in my eyes as their laughter fills the room. Words cannot do justice to the love I have for these Beings, and actions seem to pale in comparison to the truth this Dad has for his offspring. I am far from perfect, yet the three beings I call my “kids” have brought me closer than I could ever be to godliness. In this moment, two of them are showing me both how far I’ve come and how much I’ve failed to see.

Death has often showed me the frailties of life. I’ve lost loved ones, and seen the death of those loved by others in my time in fire/rescue. Twice I’ve seen, and felt, the pain of that finality as death came knocking at my door. Now, I know the end is coming and I try hard to prepare for it by living as much as I can while I’m able.

Right now, I just want to hug my kids and tell them my secret. I want to let them know that I will be gone one day, unable to hear this laughter and unable to watch them grow. They will laugh. They will grow. I, in my physical presence, will not be here to see it. I know I can never say these words to them even if I know that one day they will know them all too well.

For now, I’ll express my hopes, my dreams, my fears and my love in returning their laughter and, if I am lucky, in hugging them with a lot less of the intensity my soul asks of me. It’s all I can do when the words I feel just won’t translate into the words I want to say

I don’t often wonder about the end. Or at least I don’t think I do. It will come in its own time and in its own way. In this moment, however, I can’t help but feel it shaking me awake. I can’t help but take in the entirety of this moment knowing one day that will be impossible. The man I am known as will be gone and the Dad I seek to be will by but just a memory. There will be no more chances to love, to write, to walk or to run. The last period will be the end of the book that’s me, and there will be no more pages for me to fill.

In that fear, I sit feeling what may be one version of the end. I will want to reach out and hug these Beings just one more time, but my arms will fail me. I will want to whisper safe and loving words just once more, but my lips fail to open. As the darkness settles across my view I will want on more glimpse and have nothing with which to bargain.

I will want to write more words and share more thoughts but lose them in the vacuum of my demise. There will be so much more to say, do and see but I will be gone and, along with me, the promise of the life birthed with my very first breath.

In the rush of anxiety I am left to wonder why I wait. I wonder why, in a lifetime of aloneness, I suddenly feel alone. Why now, I ask, do I wish to have the spaces filled and the silence broken? What is left for me to do but share the enormity that is me with someone who can both accept that enormity and share a bit of her own with me?

I have no idea. I am not afraid of dying, but I do fear not living. I don’t want to leave this space with many stones unturned. I don’t want to miss many moments of laughter nor do I want to sacrifice the banter on whimsical nonsense. When the end draws near I want the life that flashes before my eyes to be so full as to delay the final breath. I want that breath to come with a smile in what I see even if it is married to a tear with what I am leaving behind.

I sigh, and near the end of my time with this thought. I can’t dwell on such things, nor can I give them much power to root in my heart. They are there — a life lived as mine gives breath to them always — but they will not control me even in their crescendo. I will bury them deep while enjoying the tremors of their existence, knowing full well that they offer me a way to hold onto the most precious of minutes.

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