The Last Words of the Dying
Blessed Anna Katharina Emmerick, Gabriel Vox Max, 1885.
The largest number of consultations we receive at The National Catholic Bioethics Center deal with end-of-life decisions. Sometimes people even call after the death of loved ones to ask if they made the right decisions on their behalf. They want to be reassured that they did the most loving things they could have for them. In cherishing the memory of loved ones, it is striking how often their last words are mentioned.
It is understandable that people cling to the last words of a loved one. They can often provide great comfort. But they can also bring distress. In some ways it seems as though the “last words” encapsulate the life or the character of the loved one.
Recently a nun wrote: “As I sat by the bed of a dying sister, I realized that the veil between heaven and earth is so very, very thin.” Of course, the veil between heaven and earth is always very thin, not just at the deathbed. But in this case the nun was granted the gift of being made acutely aware of it as her sister lay dying; and it was undoubtedly a great consolation to the nun that they would be separated only for a short while by a very thin veil.
A young man was sitting at the bedside of his dying mother. He was distraught as she seemed to be simply sleeping away. Finally, he said to her, “Mum, can you open your eyes.” She turned her head, opened her eyes and looked into his as she pursed her lips in a kiss. He said, “I love you so much, mum.” “I love you, too, baby,” she said as she closed her eyes for the last time. But what a consolation that brief moment and those few words were.
A young couple brought their baby to show him off to the husband’s dying mother. The grandmother looked at the child, smiled and said, “He’s so darned cute!” They were her last words. As she departed this life, the veil seemed very thin indeed.
An oncologist told a group of medical professionals of his wife’s final days as she died of cancer and there was nothing more he could do for her medically. She looked at him from her bed and asked weakly, “Did you prepare the children’s lunch for school?” And then she was gone. The veil seemed so very thin. She never lost concern for the simplest needs of her children even as she passed on.
Sometimes the last words are the sign of the cross traced laboriously without words over the loved one’s chest. Sometimes it is a final, weak smile directed at the child, the husband, the friend.
It is understandable that we would cling to these moments as if defining a life and a relationship. But such consolations are not always allowed us.
One woman always admired her father who was a devout Catholic, attending Mass every Sunday and holy day and praying his rosary daily. He was in the backyard with her on a beautiful summer day when he was hit with a massive heart attack. He grabbed his chest, exclaimed, “Oh, damn!” and fell to the ground. Later the daughter was inconsolable that her father’s last words would have been a curse. But why should an unanticipated medical event and an exclamation in pain be seen as his last words? How many times had she heard him say as he recited his rosary daily, “Holy Mary, Mother of God, pray for us sinners now and at the hour of our death.” Those were truly his last words.
How many times a day does a Catholic have on his or her lips the divine name of Jesus or of His blessed Mother? The chance last utterance is hardly a defining moment even though we, who are always looking for signs and consolations, would like to think so. Even someone who has fallen away from the faith and lived a reprobate life can utter at the moment of death his or her last words, perhaps inaudibly, in his or her own mind, “Jesus, mercy.”
It might be too sanguine to say that it is a thin veil that lies between earth and heaven. It is certainly a thin veil that lies between earth and the next life, but that next life will be either a life of bliss or of eternal regret and pain. The Ethical and Religious Directives for Catholic Health Care Services of the US Bishops speaks of “our common destiny to share a life with God beyond all corruption.” This is the divinely intended common destiny for all. And there is only one thing that could ever prevent us from enjoying that life with God beyond all corruption, and it is sin, it is the violation of our own innate dignity or that of another.
There is a pious practice of offering up aspirations and short prayers throughout the day. “Jesus, mercy.” “Mary, pray.” “Lord, I love you.” Even somewhat longer but hardly onerous prayers can fill our day. “Oh, my Jesus, forgive me my sins, save me from the fires of hell, lead all souls to heaven, especially those most in need of your mercy.” Or simply the Hail Mary prayed throughout the empty spaces of a busy day. Then it is likely that our last words will be those of faith and love, regardless of the sounds formed by our lips at the very end.
