The Last Breath (Written for 1000 Voices for Compassion)

 

Sometimes the most profound things happen when we listen.  The first cry of a newborn or the last breath of air exhaled at the end of a person’s life.

One breath.  That is all that holds us on the cusp between life and death.

My father suffered from Multiple Sclerosis since he was in his forties.  It took its toll over the years, but he lived a long life until he passed away a few years ago. I saw a slow decline in his health over time until he learned to use the electric scooter and from then on his life depended on it.  He never let his illness sway his personality; he always insisted he was just fine.  Stern and grumpy or laughing to tears, he was who he was and nothing would ever change that.

At the hospital, at the end, I was there.  Just listening.

Nurses came and went and there were a few small conversations between my brother and me, but for the most part, I listened to his careful wisps of breath in every second of time.

It seemed okay in that moment.  I was going to settle in for the night at the hospital by his bedside.  I was pretending inside, I guess, that everything would be fine.  I assumed that my staying that night would make everything alright.  It felt like heartache and favor all in one.  I had hoped he would be out of his suffering in a quiet kind of way, and while that was coming to pass, I still wanted to deny it. Compassion toggles both ways when it comes to life and death.

Then, in one quiet moment, in just a single small second, his breathing stopped.

I caught it right when it happened.  I had looked away but then returned my glance to him and the wisp of breath dissipated like a swirl climbing up to the sky.  I thought I would be scared to see life come full circle to a place with which I was unfamiliar; yet, it was peaceful and my fear was gone. His fear and pain and suffering was gone too, at last.  I witnessed his last moment on this earth; the moment when his life vanished from this world.

If I had not been listening, I may have missed it.  It was the most dramatic listening moment in my life.

In big and small ways, listening can be a pivotal moment in your life.  You will see the needs of others or feel their dying wishes.  Good listening, like the martial art I practice, takes patience, skill, and practice to become proficient.  I am still trying to do it better.

I ask you, in your pursuit of compassion, to try to listen so intently that you can hear the failing life of another in the depth of your heart.  When you give thought to those who suffer on a regular basis you suddenly see your own life through new and loving eyes.  Your suffering becomes inconsequential at the death of a loved one, as their last breath settles on the bridge of your nose like a pair of reading glasses.

My father’s last moment was worth listening for, worth hearing.  After all, there is only ever one last moment in a person’s life. When he passed, I saw my childhood revealed like an old picture-show over the top of his breath.  It was something that I will never forget; a moment that means more to me than all the thousands of moments that have gone by or all the thousands that still remain in my future.  I miss him, of course, but I’m so thankful he is no longer suffering. And, perhaps it is karma, but I feel like I see my father every time I look at my oldest son, who looks so much like my father did in his early years.

I found out more about myself on this listening journey.  I know that there are so many sounds of life that will never happen again exactly the same way.  Intimate moments, faith moments, moments of courage, all with their own sound and significance.  Compassion is epitomized in your daily breath. You grow in it as you breathe it in and out.  Quietly.  Respectfully.  Emotionally.  To love another is to understand what compassion means.

Compassion makes you gasp.  It makes you ask questions.  It makes you ache just enough to shake you into believing again.  It’s not learned.  You have it or you don’t.  I know from where my compassion comes and it’s from my mother.  She always notices those who are sad or who struggle and wishes it could be better for them.  Compassion from compassion.

People exhale last breaths and let go of personal sufferings and rigorous pains all the time, every moment of the day, as they journey from this life to the next.  You start to understand the meaning of self, of love, and of hope when you witness that miracle.  Seeing my father’s last moment was the catalyst to opening my eyes to life.  A moment of compassion for my dying father brought me a never-ending joy in the discovery of each new moment. His last breath brought me the gift of compassion.

If you don’t know what I mean, it is very simple.  It only takes a moment to learn.  Stop everything you are doing for a moment, and….just listen.

Andrea

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ABOUT 1000 VOICES SPEAK FOR COMPASSION:

Something great is about to happen.  Something wonderful and powerful has been brewing and it is about to explode.

For the last month, bloggers from all over the globe have been talking and writing and connecting with one another…preparing to flood the Internet with goodness.

On February 20, 2015, United Nations World Day of Social Justice, one thousand bloggers will join their voices to speak through their blogs about compassion. 

Why?  Read the headlines. Look out your window. Walk down the street. You already know why. I don’t have to list and link the stories here. You already know. Far too many days I see the news and find myself wondering, “What is wrong with people?” We can sit and try to answer that or we can prove that there is so much right with people. It’s out there. Compassion, kindness…it exists.