Last Words
by Ruth Ann Harnisch on 02/21/10 at 1:35 am
Day 52
I find myself returning to the Esquire article on Roger Ebert I referenced yesterday.
The photo is haunting, especially if you knew Roger’s former face. But his appearance isn’t what’s bothering me. It’s that Roger Ebert, who used to get paid to talk, lost the ability to speak several years ago.
He isn’t complaining. He’s alive. He says not having a physical voice hasn’t stopped the flow of words – he’s a prolific writer, and he’s written torrents since cancer surgery rendered him silent. I’ve long enjoyed reading his blog , but I must have missed the announcement that Roger could no longer speak. It’s still quite a shock.
According to the article, n0b0dy really remembers Roger’s last words. Losing his voice was unexpected, so there was no reason to make a note of the final time he spoke aloud. This led me to think about times I’ve exchanged final words with people – not knowing they were the final words. Over 40 years ago, a college friend and I said goodnight as one of us was leaving a party. I love you, said one of us, and the other said, I love you too. Later that night he was in a car with other mutual friends. The driver was drunk. My friend, like a brother to me, was the only passenger who didn’t survive. But our final words were perfect.
The Roger Ebert story has me thinking: I want to say fewer things that would be terrible last words. I don’t want my last words to anyone to be memorably awful, and we seldom have a chance to know when we’re speaking for the last time.
I want to be more mindful of the gift of voice, to use it more respectfully, to appreciate it in myself and others. Yes, I know I resolved earlier in the year to be silent more often. This is a corollary, not a contradiction.
Conscious speaking and conscious silence – which will be more of a challenge?
2 Comments
Gregory Fisher
Feb 21st, 2010
Bryan and I agreed after 9/11 that we would never part (in person, on the phone, through email) without saying "I love you." It may seem contrived, but we both felt strongly that we wanted to be sure, should these be our last, that we ended our time together with those embracing words. It has been a challenge not only to always say it, but also to always mean it. If we are parting in anger, then I have to rethink the anger before leaving (at least, in my mind and heart) because I'm getting ready to say those 3 words, and I want to be honest when I do. When I'm in a hurry, in a meeting and annoyed by his sudden call, tired and less than brilliant, I have to stop and think about my sweet sweetheart and my love for him at that very moment. It's a new commitment every time. It's the best thing I ever agreed to do. It has saved me and strengthened my resolve to be in love with him time and time again. Thanks for reminding me. As we've been told so eloquently by Don Miguel Ruiz, let's be "impeccable" with our word.
Michael Markiewicz
Feb 21st, 2010
On Friday I was informed that a work colleague had passed away on Thursday night. She had spent the last 4 or 5 months in the hospital fighting off infections which were complicated by her long battle with colon cancer. Ever the trooper, she used to come into the office when she was well and work hard, ask for work regularly, and always wanted to be useful to others. It was also perhaps a way for her to find some additional meaning in her life and meaning in her illness. I had known her a mere 1.5 years, and had recently found out that she lost her husband and son in a car accident caused by a drunk driver some 10 years ago. Despite the personal and physical difficulties she had experienced in her life, she kept marching on with more enthusiasm than many who never experienced what she had. I visited her in the hospital twice during her stay there, and each time she told me how she was looking forward to returning to work. I'm so happy I took the time to visit her, and grateful that she graced my life with her presence.
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