In Bye Bye I Love You, “last words” refers mainly to what a dying person produces. However, I realize that “last words” can also encompass what family members, friends, and others say to the dying person, and that composing the “right” thing to say, and how to interact with a person who is dying and/or unconscious, can be a matter of considerable anxiety.
I had a conversation today with someone who lives amidst these dynamics as a chaplain. How do you take leave of someone who has euthanasia scheduled for the next day? (I live in the Netherlands, where this is legal.) And how do you say things to them that are both meaningful yet not presumptuous—for instance, saying “have a good voyage” presumes a belief in an afterlife, as does “I hope you journey toward the light.”
It seemed to me there are three areas of language where people can use guidance.
One is in the phatic. (“Phatic” means an utterance is used to perform a social function rather than provide information. Obviously, in some situations, an utterance can do both.) As he pointed out, you can’t say “see you later,” to someone who is scheduled to die the next day. I say “can’t,” even though obviously you can, but it ought to feel awkward and uncomfortable.
And “good morning” to people who are burying a loved one is also awkward. “What do you mean, good morning?” a grieving father once snarled. “All my good mornings are gone for as long as I live.”
Yes, the father is re-reading the phatic expression for its content inappropriately, but we’ll give him that, won’t we?
People need phatic options that suit the situation. The problem there is that phaticness and automaticity (on the part of both producer and receiver) come hand in hand. I can imagine that people often in such situations, like ministers, chaplains, and doctors, adapt locutions that seem weird but which are chosen because they’re not offensive and can be overlearned. I can't think of examples, but I seem to remember portrayals in TV and movies where this language is mocked. So let me restate the problem: people need phatic options that suit the situation and don’t sound artificial.
Another area is in the substantive farewell or send off. The chaplain I spoke to said has settled on something like, “I hope you are able to feel connected to the people in your life in the way you want.” In other words, the emphasis is on the remaining time, not on the dying itself, and it’s on connection and relationality.
The final area comes from situations of palliative sedation, in which a dying person receives a drip of morphine and midazolam for pain relief and to reduce agitation; they are unresponsive but still alive, essentially comatose. He sees family members confused over how to use that time. A video recording would show them twiddling their phones, going to the bathroom, more phone use, while inside they’re in emotional turmoil. They’re not talking because they don’t know what to say. The formulas have been said over and over, I love you, I love you, thank you, it’s okay to go. Often the phrases begin to feel hollow. What’s left? It’s not clear how much linguistic content people can understand, but there is some level of acoustic processing still going on. So perhaps, if you’re sitting by the bedside, you should lean into the feelings, not away from them. Talk about the turmoil. Tell them that you’ll miss them. Make it real, make it matter. Tell stories, but do it as if the person is still a subject. You can certainly treat them that way, not as insensate furniture.
I remember that one of the important early lessons in life with a baby was to not talk about the baby in the third person if they were present. I made that switch early. He couldn’t talk, but I would always gesture to him. “Hey, I’m talking about you here.” That same thing holds for the death vigil.
And if there’s a circumstance in which you feel you didn’t say the right thing--phatically, as a farewell, or during a vigil--you can always write a letter to the person, even after they have died. This rewriting plays a psychological function—you might not have been able to say the right thing in that moment, but you know how to do it. And that hopefully will make it easier to do it the next time.
Because for all of us, one thing is for sure: there's going to be a next time.
