Last words

Like most men, I suppose, I have fantasies sometimes about running into a burning building to save someone, or into the line of fire.  And you get hit, you’re dying: what are your last words?  The cliched answer is “tell my wife and kids I love them.”

I’ve thought about this, and my kids hear “I love you” literally every time they talk to me on the telephone, and hear it twice from me every time I put them to bed, and have their entire lives.  When they were little we also had a very elaborate game that evolved over time that took 2-3 minutes, that they loved.  They are teenagers now, and we still have a routine, even though it has been shortened greatly.

So there is little informational content to this phrase.

Instead, my take is: tell my kids to be brave.  It’s OK to cry, but there will be a time to move on.  I’ll watch over you if I can.

If I only get out the first line, well that’s enough.

There is little enough love in this world as it is.  Surely families can manage it, if they merely make it a priority?  No one you love should ever not hear it from you constantly.  We are ships traveling in the fog; it doesn’t take long to drift apart.