The Dying

I used to think that my final moments would be spent worrying about the things I left unsaid, the people I hurt and the mountain of tasks I never completed. Or, I sometimes allowed myself the luxury of thinking that the life flashing if front of me as I took my final breath would be satisfying and beautiful.

Thanks to my career as a Firefighter/EMT I don’t have to worry about any of that. I’ve seen people in their last moments. They are too busy breathing to worry about lost loves, unsaid things or weather or not they would be remembered. It is a personal experience, dying, no room for anybody but the person doing it. And I think that is a good thing. We come in alone, and we go out alone, it’s what we do between those moments that matters.

livingDying is funny, eventually every one of us is going to do it, yet we go about our lives as if we have all the time in the world. When our time is up, if we’re not in a morphine induced coma, we accept it, and let it go. I’ve yet to see a person scream, “I want to live!” when their time was up. Young, old, sick or accident victims seem at peace with their demise. It never fails to amaze me how well they take it, even while I’m doing everything I can to give them a little more time.

Life is for the living. The dying have already let it go.


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