I’ve heard that the moment we’re born we start dying. I’ve also heard that death comes quicker once you fall in love, or something like that. This last vision is the shortest, but the most painful as I mentioned. I did mention it, didn’t I? I don’t know, I can feel myself slipping, and that could be a good thing since in this moment I’m reminded of the agony that I felt when first thinking that I Amy was breathing her last.
The only upside is that we’ve both lived long and fruitful lives. We found happiness with each other, we fought through adversity and won, and we created five wonderful children. We’ve enjoyed our grandchildren thoroughly and had the chance to see them grow into fine human beings. A couple of them even made us great-grandparents before our time was up. But despite the fact that we knew it was coming, holding Amy in my arms as she took her last breath was the worst pain I’d ever felt in my life, barring the death of my sister. I couldn’t do anything this time, but unlike the day my sister died, it was not as sad or as tragic, because she’d known, as had I.
We did the one thing that no human can stop, but so many of us fear; we grew old. When you begin to age, you will find that life becomes less about the frantic struggle to survive, to thrive, and to ensure that you see the next day. You’ll find that it’s a matter of moments, and the ones you choose to live in until the last breath leaves your body. I’ve had my seven moments, and I pray that Amy was given her best moments before she breathed her last in my arms. The warm smile she gave me as her heart stopped was pure Amy, kind and accepting of the world we live in, and everything it comes with.
Ah, I guess my moment is here. I can hear my wife calling me. It’s time to go home. My moment’s up.