Your last moment with someone is important. It should carry
some weight. Some emotional significance.
My last
moment with my mom before she died was just horrifically average. On my way out
the door to school, “Bye Mom, see you this afternoon.”
“Have a
good day,” her reply.
No sense
that that was the last moment.
I would
have preferred to have an argument. Nasty, spiteful words would have been
better than what we actually said. A fight would have proven that we mattered
to each other- we cared enough to try and change the other.
From what
we did say, we could have been strangers.
I
wish we had chosen that moment to have one of our ritualistic arguments over my
holey jeans and the fact that it was cold outside and I should be wearing a
jacket. Even though those arguments were usually filled with mean, hurtful
words, they proved that we cared enough to fight.
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