John was watching a television show the other evening, about a man grieving the loss of his father. His mother and brothers shared wonderful stories before the funeral, about the last words they’d had with the deceased.
“Dad picked up my crying son from the ice, gave him a hug and assured him, ‘Champ, it doesn’t matter if you fall down once in a while. I will always be proud of you.’”
“We took a hike in the snow and had an amazing talk. Then he told me, ‘Son, life is such a gift.’”
“Your father kissed me and said, ‘You know something, Gorgeous? I’m the luckiest man alive.’”
But Marshall didn’t have a beautiful memory of last words. He went over the most recent conversation with his father, when his parents visited him in New York City. Before they left for the airport, his father said something along the lines of, “Could I snag that extra pork chop for the flight? The food on the plane is horrible.”
Then Marshall remembered a phone call after their plane food conversation. What exactly did his father say? “Son, we’re still downstairs waiting for a cab. Do you have an umbrella? It looks like rain.” Better, but still not the memory that Marshall desperately wanted. He remembered that he’d run downstairs and handed his father the umbrella and received a bit of wisdom. “Hey, son, I just want to leave you with a little advice. Rent Crocodile Dundee III. I caught it on cable last night, and it totally holds up.”
At this point I’m invested in the episode. Is our hero destined to remember his father by a recommendation to a mediocre 80s movie? Granted, it’s more sentimental than a request for leftovers or a rain accessory. But will his luck change? Will Marshall discover a memory holding the sentimentality he craves?
Hollywood prevailed and our hero recovered a voicemail from his father in the taxi to the airport. After a five-minute pocket dial, Dad leaves heart wrenching last words. “Your mother and I had such a great time seeing you. I love you.”
Yep, I cried. But Marshall’s father, in typical dad fashion, added a request. “Oh, and let me know if you find my foot cream. That fungus thing is acting up again.”
You can guess that our hero chose to remember “I love you” as his father’s last words. I’m pretty sure we all would. The takeaway is this: make every conversation count with those you love. End each time with them with words of affirmation. Don’t let your last words be a movie recommendation. Or a request for foot cream.
Jann Goar Franklin graduated Russellville High School in 1989 and resides in Grand Cane, Louisiana. You can reach her at jann@jannfranklin.com