One feature of life is that we rarely know in advance what we’ll soon leave behind. You don’t remember the last time you used your old computer before it broke, the last run you made to pick up your kid from tennis before he quit, or the last package you accepted for your neighbor before they moved out—because you never saw these things coming. That “feature” is as it should be.
The last times we miss prevent us from being constantly overwhelmed with grief. They allow us to keep on living. But what about the last times we see coming at us at full speed? And what if some of the former kind were more like the latter?
Your last day at your current job. The last class before graduation. The last login to a project before you delete it. Sometimes, we know the end is coming, and we do our best to deal with it. But often, it’s better not to know. Take death, for example. He’s always there, but do you really want to see him coming? What about when he comes for the people you love? It’s better if it’s an interruption, isn’t it?
My great-grandpa had a heart attack in his 60s. One minute he was alive, sitting in his living room. The next he was gone. Was it a sad experience for my dad? Absolutely. But if you had told him three months in advance, he’d only have gone mad with worry. A German user on Reddit faced this exact dilemma. His grandma had decided to commit assisted suicide, and he was about to visit her for the last time.
“What should I say? What should I ask?” he asked for advice. There were a lot of good answers. “Ask her for her best recipes.” “Say thanks and ask her about her favorite memories.” “Record some video footage so you can remember her voice.” But the top comment, if you ask me, came from a user who went through something similar.
“When my grandma lay dying, she told me it was great that we talked normally. We just had everyday conversations. If she wants to tell you something, she’ll do it. If not, that’s okay, too. I stole a rose from a flower shop for her. ‘Grandma, what are they gonna do, sentence you to death?’ That stood next to her bed until the end. And one time, I spent two hours driving there and back because she really wanted a pillow from her bed at home. Long story short: Less discussing the meaning of life, more living and spending time together.”
So…what if you knew it was the last time? Perhaps the best thing is to pretend you don’t know at all. To do exactly what you would have done if the occasion weren’t so momentous—and thus make it special all the same, minus the worrying.
Life isn’t perfect, but some features are exactly as they should be. When they bug out, our honorable task is to simply restore them to their functioning state. The last times we witness without realizing are one of those features—so when death accidentally reveals his cards, just pretend you didn’t see it.