No one living right now knows what's beyond the veil of life and death. But just before a loved one passes, there can be a moment where that veil is pulled back. If we're lucky—or perhaps unlucky—the dying person might give us some parting words that act as a clue to the other side, or else gives us further insight into their lives. From secrets to mysteries, here are deathbed confessions.
I was looking after an elderly woman who had gone downhill and was on her last legs for about a week. She kept asking me to read the Bible to her, and as soon as I would start, she would scream that he was coming to get her and that he was waiting right behind me. Finally, I asked her who was coming to get her. Her answer chilled me to the bone.
She replied with, “The Devil’s coming for me because I let my husband hurt our kids and did nothing”.
I recently cared for a woman who had multiple acute strokes in a short amount of time. A week before, she had been independent, riding her horse every day, and still taught part-time at the local school, despite being in her 80s. By the time she got to me, she was completely nonverbal, incontinent, and unable to feed herself.
I had a feeling that she was neurologically intact enough to understand what was going on, so I talked to her as much as I could when I was in the room. I talked to her about her daughters who had called every day, her husband who hadn't called—but I left that part out—the weather, her horses, and her students who had sent a card.
On the last day of my workweek, her daughter from out of state had finally found a flight up. They sat in silence and held hands for hours. Visiting hours ended right at shift change, so I walked in to give a report as the daughter was saying goodbye. The patient then spoke. I knew they were her last words, and they were heartbreaking.
She said, “I'll always be looking after you". She pointed to her daughter, then at me, and then she fell asleep. Two days later, when I came back to work, I was informed she had passed in the night.
I’m not a doctor or a nurse, but when my grandma was on her deathbed, she had no idea that my uncle had taken his own life the night before. Nevertheless, seemingly out of nowhere, her last words were: "I'm going to see my son now". I got goosebumps when I heard her say those words. Did she know somehow? Or maybe had another deceased son that no one ever knew about?
I'm a nurse and I was previously working at an assisted living community on the dementia and Alzheimer's unit. My very favorite patient had been declining pretty steadily, so I was checking on him very frequently. We would have long chats and joke around with each other, but in the last two weeks of his life, he stopped talking completely.
He didn't really acknowledge conversation directed at him at all. I finished my medication rounds for the evening, so I went to see him before I left. I told him I was leaving for the night and that I'd see him the following day. As soon as I said that, he immediately looked me in the eyes, smiled sooo genuinely, and calmly said, "You look like an angel".
I thought it was so sweet, because he had not seemed lucid in several weeks. But then I found out the disturbing truth. He passed the next morning. It really messed with me.
When my grandmother was taken off of life support, my father and grandfather stayed with her that night in the hospital. At around 7 AM, my father left the room to go get breakfast. My grandmother woke up, looked at my grandfather, and said, “Buy the new golf clubs. I love you," and passed. He and my father had been talking about how my grandfather’s golf clubs were more than 20 years old, and he was thinking about a new set.
My grandmother hadn’t been lucid and had barely been conscious for a week at that point.
My grandfather looked up at me from his deathbed and said the following cryptic message: "July 21st, 2016. Don't do it". Then, he didn't say a thing for about two hours, after which he passed. Everyone always has a lot of questions when they hear this story, so I better tell you guys how it all went down. Some people go really crazy over this story when they hear it.
No, my grandfather wasn't insane. He was an awesome, fully sane person. He just passed from lung cancer. No one knew he was going to pass that day, but he just called my family over and requested to see us. We didn't have anything to do, so we went. He was at his little trailer. I remember it all perfectly. We went over there and he was in his bed.
He asked to speak to me alone and for everyone else to stay behind. I went into his room. He looked at me. He was so happy to see me. I was not sure why, but he was happy, so I was cool with it. He told me to come closer. He grabbed my hand with a cold, fragile grip and then looked at me straight in the eye. His smile was completely wiped at this point, and he spoke in a low tone.
"Listen to me. July 21st, 2016. Don't do it". Then, he just sat there, like he was sad. So I left the room after about thirty minutes of awkward silence. My family and I sat there for two hours, waiting around, listening to him fidget in his bed. We heard all the creeks his bed made, and then it all stopped. So I went in to check on him.
It was 7:36 PM. He was in his bed, with wet marks under his eyes from crying. He was no longer alive.
I worked in a nursing home for about a decade doing hospice, rehab, and all kinds of long-term care. I had a fellow who had worked at the Army Film Unit in Los Angeles during active combat. When it looked like he wasn't going to make it through the night, I sat with him and just talked. He was remarkably lucid the entire time.
He told me that he had been present at the "Zoot Suit Riots". He even admitted to taking a man's life, but he was never prosecuted. I never could find any evidence of anyone having been slain during those five days in LA when the riots took place. But that wasn't all. He also told me about getting frisky with Rosemary Clooney in a bar on Sunset.
My great-grandmother lived a very long and interesting life. She was in her 20s during the great depression. She had a wild streak from those days that we don’t know much about, to the point that we actually don't know our great-grandfather's name. We only know the husband she took later. Over the course of her nearly 100-year life, she had collected owls.
She had literally thousands of owl figurines and doodads. She had clocks, wall-hangings, potholders, lamps, stained glass art, salt shakers, and more little figurines than you could imagine, all depicting owls. We all wondered what the importance of the owls was. She never talked about them. We just all knew that she loved owls.
When she was nearing the end, at the age of 98 or 99, and the doctors said she had mere days left, my grandparents went and talked to her. They asked her if she had anything she wanted to share or ask before she went. She thought for a moment, then said something that changed our whole idea of her: "I never understood the owls".
Yep, it turned out she didn't really give a darn about owls. From what we could piece together, sometime in the 40s or 50s, perhaps, she bought either a trivet or a set of salt/pepper shakers that were owls. Then someone got her the other. Those were the oldest owl things anyone could remember. From there, someone got her an owl to match, probably a potholder or a placemat.
Then, all of a sudden, her kitchen was owl themed. From there, it snowballed. The owls flowed in, baffling her for 60 years, eventually taking over as the bulk of her personal belongings.
My dad loved small-town auctions. Over the years, he had collected all those boxes of stuff that would go to the lowest bidder. He amassed quite a collection, filling the garage and a workshop out back. He always promised my mom that he would sell it all someday in some big garage sale or auction of his own. One day, my mom’s cancer had returned, and the doctors told us this time it wasn’t a fair fight.
Two weeks before she passed, I was sitting with her in the hospital. We had run out of things to talk about. She looked up at the ceiling, trying to ignore the pain, and said, “Thank God, at least I won’t have to deal with your dad’s stuff”. My mom and I just burst out laughing.
I’m not a doctor or nurse, and the person in question wasn’t exactly a patient. It was my elederly grandpa, who had been suffering from Alzheimer's disease. We were getting him situated in bed and he had bad knees. We accidentally bent it wrong at one point and he obviously didn’t like the way it felt. He angrily said, "IF YOU DO THAT AGAIN, I'LL PUNCH YOU IN THE NUTS!"
I chuckled and let him go to bed. His blood pressure soon dropped and he passed peacefully in his sleep. He was a hilarious guy overall and so it was fitting that his life came to an end with one of his most ridiculous sentences ever as his last words. Here are some other examples of cute and funny stuff he has said and done over the years.
Like I mentioned, he had Alzheimer's disease, so one of his biggest quirks was saying extremely aggressive things without any awareness of who he was talking to or what the situation was. One day, I left my cell phone on the picnic table and he snagged it as a joke. But he then forgot that he had done so. When I realized that it was missing, I was getting super pissed thinking that someone had swiped it.
We decided to call it and see if we could hear it ringing. Naturally, we immediately heard it ringing from grandpa’s pocket. He pulled it out of his pocket when it started to vibrate, and he couldn't figure out what it was. That was when we all put two and two together and realized what had happened. It was a classic Grandpa moment, so I didn’t mind.
Another time, he asked me what I was going to school for. I told him I was studying nursing and he replied, "I knew you looked like a wimp!" Such an unnecessarily aggressive and non-sensical reply could only have come from this individual. Also, he used to always do this joke before he started slipping where he would stir his coffee and then burn your arm with the spoon as a joke.
Well, once he started to slip, he would forget that he had just done it. So every three minutes or so while you sat next to him, he would sneakily burn your arm over and over again until you had red marks all the way up and down your entire arm. And he would chuckle each and every time he did it as if it was the funniest thing he’d ever seen and no one had seen it coming.
My brother ended up putting a spoon in his suit jacket at the funeral as we both laughed.
Firefighter and paramedic here. Thanks to these jobs, I've seen way more than my fair share of active passings over the years. Many of these passings involved creepy, strange, or eerie last words coming from the patients. But this one stuck with me. A 36-year-old that we coded last week waited till he was on his last conscious breath.
Then he said, "I'm going down, guys. I'm going down". He went into V-fib and didn't come back out of it. I also had a man once in the emergency room who coded and we shocked him and got a rhythm back. He then woke up and asked if he had passed. We told him that he temporarily had. Then he started crying and said he had just seen the face of God.
This isn’t technically about last words per se, but very much related. One night, I was having a few quiet drinks with a friend and some of his friends that I didn't really know. I ended up having a conversation with this girl who told me a pretty creepy story about something that had just happened to her recently. It started off with her having a dream, but it turned into a living nightmare.
She had it the night before about her grandad, who had already passed about a year earlier. In the dream, her grandad was sitting on her bed, telling her to "Call Grandma and tell her not to do it. You must not let her do it!" She had no idea what he was talking about. She woke up the next morning, dropped her boyfriend off at work, and then came home.
She then dozed off back to sleep for a little bit. Two hours later, her mother phoned her to say that grandma had just hung herself. The girl was on the verge of tears when she told me this, and it still gives me goosebumps to this day. Even while I'm writing this, I can hardly contain my emotions.
My friend Tom had a grandma who was a real hippy. She had traveled all over the world with three young boys in the 60s. My friend was also a total hippy himself as a teenager and doted on his grandma with all his heart. They spoke about everything in life. At a ripe old age, she lay on her deathbed in hospital and flatlined with her sons around her.
But she wasn't actually deceased. A few moments later, she let out a gasp and said, "Tell Tom I never saw a light", and took her last breath.
I was a scrub nurse. My job was to assist the surgeon during surgeries. I was preparing an elderly patient for a pretty high-risk surgery. There was a good chance he was going to be fine, but there was also a decent chance things were going to go south and he knew that. While the CRNA was doing her thing, getting the anesthesia ready, I was standing next to the patient going over his chart and the signed releases.
Then, he said to me, “I need you to tell my wife I’m sorry for all the times I raised my voice at her. There weren’t many times. But right now I wish there weren’t any”. That was the first time I ever got choked up at the bedside. I so badly wanted to tell him everything was going to be okay but no one knew if it was going to be.
So, I said back to him, “I’ll do anything you need me to, but right now let’s think about some happy memories before you go under”. I asked him to tell me about his and his wife’s first date. Once he was under, I excused myself before scrubbing in to stop myself from crying.
My friend's grandpa was always known to be a loving but stern man. He used to drink and sleep a lot. When the end was near, he asked my friend to come closer. He told him something that left a smile on his face: "I've left a lot of money to you. Life's not worth it. Spend it all. Spend it all on ladies of the night and illicit substances".
He passed about a week later. I don't know if he did spend it on what his grandpa said to, but he did spend it.
My grandma suffered from dementia for many years before she passed. It got so bad she didn’t remember who any of her family were and would barricade herself in her home because she was scared of everyone. She even forgot she smoked and would find her smokes months later after she would forget where they were and claim she was desperate for one.
The only memories she had left at the end were of her sister being able to play the piano beautifully and that her husband—her childhood sweetheart—was gone, but she didn’t know where. He had passed some time earlier. She spent her days waiting for him to come home from wherever he was. She would say, “My John will be home soon".
Or someone would walk past the window, and she would do a double-take and say, “Thought that was my John”. It was heartbreaking watching her deteriorate until she was near the end, unaware of anything or anyone. I went to say my goodbyes to her in the hospital, and she held my hand and told me how much she loved me.
But then she said how she was ready to go be with John now. At that moment, she remembered who I was, what was happening to her, and that her husband, my grandad, was gone already. Not long after that, she closed her eyes forever.
This family that I know lost their infant son to cancer when he was only three years old. It was a horrible and very sad story, and I can’t even imagine how much pain these people have gone through. His last words on this earth were: "Mama, papa, I see them. The angels!" He said this and then he immediately went to sleep. His parents held him tight until he passed.
Around the time my grandfather was really declining, he started making strange remarks about a group of people who we were unfamiliar with. He was telling us a lot of battle stories, as well as the word "Kitchens" over and over. He started talking about “Kitchens," and we just thought it was ramblings and nonsense. After he passed we were cleaning out his house.
While we did this, we came upon an old family book that was handwritten by his grandfather. Its contents stunned us. It was about the Denver bootleggers, focusing on a certain character who managed to run one of the bigger bootlegging operations in the area during the Prohibition era. Then, we came across some pictures in a box with a bunch of pins and a sash that was from the Masons.
The pictures all had my grandfather and his father posing with family members, as well as a random old guy dressed in what can only be described as a 1940s-era suit and hat that made him look like an old-school bandit. We then found out that there was a house that my aunt used to go to when she was a very young child that was supposedly owned by that old man in the photos.
When I did some scoping on the property, it did not have a registered number on the street it resided on. Instead, it was registered as an address that was one block over. The house had no real address, and it was owned by a company that was run by some guy that my aunt and mom knew to be related to us in some way, shape, or form.
At this point, we believed that “Kitchens” was actually a pseudo name for someone my grandfather was associated with within the Masons. This “Kitchens” fellow may be the man in the photos as well as even the inspiration for the main character in the handwritten book we found buried in the closet.
One of the most challenging moments I had was with a patient—a woman in her 80s—who had advanced dementia and trying to recover from a severe bed sore that had gone septic. She often confused me with her second husband because, according to her daughter, I looked a lot like him. The patient would often talk about "our" kinky exploits—including swinging and partner swapping—as well as very wild "adventures".
I had given up on trying to tell her I was not her husband because it just confused her and upset her, so I learned to play along. She talked to me often about "our" children and other family members, as well as many other tamer adventures she had with her husband. It made her happy to talk about it and often left me with a smile.
I don't care that I'm not a nurse. This was said by my dad to the nurse as he was passing, so close enough as far as I’m concerned. Backstory: my dad had MS. He'd had it since he was 18 years old. It was diagnosed when he was twenty, he married my mom at 24, had me at 29, and passed just fifteen days days short of turning 45.
Six months before that, he was put in hospice. He and my mom were discussing funeral arrangements, and my mom jokingly said, “You know, Tim, the best thing you could do would be to pass on a Wednesday. That way we can have the body prepared on Thursday, the viewing on Friday, and the memorial on Saturday, so that more people can come.”
The morning we got the call that it was time, my mom, two sisters, and I were about five minutes too late. After we said our goodbyes, the nurse pulled my mom aside and asked if that day had any significance. It wasn’t even 6:00 in the morning yet, so our mom didn't even know what day it was, much less whether it was important. The nurse tells her it's May 21st.
No, nothing was coming to mind. The nurse told her that the previous day, he kept asking what day it was and they'd tell him it was the 20th. He'd look irritated but accept it. That morning, he asked what day it was, and they said, "It's Wednesday, May 21st". That was when he smiled, squeezed his favorite nurse's hand, and was gone almost immediately.
It was Memorial Day weekend, and we did just as he and my mom had planned. And despite many friends being out of town for the holiday, we had over 250 people show up at the memorial service for him, overflowing the tiny church more than it had ever been filled. To his final day, he was trying to make things easier for our family. I miss him.
In my first year as a nurse, I worked in palliative care. I had a patient who was 28 years old and losing her battle with cancer. She moved from Canada to be with her boyfriend, who left her a year after moving. We weren’t expecting her to deteriorate so fast. I held her hand as she passed alone without her family or friends. Right before she passed, she made a tragic confession.
She told me she wished she had never left Canada and cried. Her family was overseas and couldn’t make it in time.
Massage therapist here. It was my first final massage, although they are called different things in different places so I’m not sure everyone will know what that means. Regardless, my first time was with this little old lady that was known to speak her mind. She was as sweet as they come, but would let you have it if she felt there was any reason to.
I was giving her a massage with a soundtrack that imitated a cruise line, since going on cruises was her passion in life. She was breathing short, ragged breaths. After a while, she simply passed on and I called for our house doctor to come and deal with the situation. Her pulse was checked and was found to be nonexistent. But what happened next shocked all of us.
About five minutes later, as the family was talking to us and dealing with her passing, she suddenly started breathing again, leaned up, and said: "Oh God, they're so freaking happy up there!" Before we even had a chance to react to this development, she passed all over again. It was definitely a strange and memorable experience.
I had a woman who was over 100 years old tell me she had been badly tormented by her first husband but was stuck in the marriage because of the culture at that time. He'd been thrown from a horse—that he'd also been very mean to—and kicked several times. She ignored his cries for help and let him perish. She said she had never told anyone about it, but she felt guilty about it for over 80 years and could still hear him screaming for help.
I work as a palliative care nurse at a local hospital. One time, my patient was slipping in and out of consciousness and would mumble words, but you couldn't understand what she was trying to say. During her last few minutes of life, suddenly, she opened her eyes widely and looked right at me, fully alert. I suddenly gave her my full and undivided attention.
In a fully serious tone, she said, "Thank you for coming. I am sorry but I am going to be poor company. I love you". All I could do was kiss her forehead and tell her that I loved her too. She passed later that same day, not too long after this incident. I am not sure who she thought was standing there, but I am pretty sure it wasn't me.
When my great-grandma was on her last legs, she was convinced that my mom was having a baby and wanted to know if it was a girl or boy. My mom replied by telling her that she was not pregnant, and after asking the same to my aunt she said, "Oh, guess I was wrong". Here's where it gets unsettling. Exactly nine months later, I was born.
I work in oncology and in hospice care. If any of you have ever worked in the medical field, then you'll know that passings often seem to happen in groups of three. I’m not even joking, it just always seems to be the case. This one lady was going to be our second passing of the evening. I was sitting with her while her family took a break.
She kept on looking at the corner chair where no one was sitting. I asked her what she was looking at and she said “Oh, it's just Charlie! He's waiting for me. We're going to go together.” She never said another word and passed shortly after. It may have seemed like a normal thing, because many people "see things" before they pass, but here's the detail that unlocks it all: Charlie was patient number one who had passed earlier in the shift…
My nanny always called people "my darlin". It was kind of her thing. She was laying in her bed at the hospice facility, pretty unresponsive to anything anyone was saying save for a few head nods when asked if she needed more meds. I was leaving to head back to my university soon, and I kind of had a feeling like it would be the last time I ever saw her alive.
I held her hand and told her I was leaving, and she didn't say anything. I teared up a bit and just kind of laid my head over on her hands and just said "I love you Nanny". To my shock, she immediately replied. "I love you too, baby darlin". As soon as I got to school that night, I sat down at my desk, and my mom called to tell me that she had passed. I couldn't have asked for a better last conversation with her.
One day, the whole family was with my grandparents. My grandpa had Alzheimer's, and we were practicing the piano together when he suddenly said out of nowhere, "I'm going to die soon, but it's so nice that we gathered here today and are able to see each other one last time". I just smiled and said I would definitely come back next Sunday, and he didn’t have to worry.
My grandfather had a cerebral hemorrhage the next day and went into a coma. He was in a coma for four days before he would finally leave this earth. I believe that on that particular day, he knew for one last time who he really was, who we were, and that his end was coming soon.
My friend had a patient who was hours from the end. He told her, “The only thing I regret in life is not telling my baby boy that I accept him”. It didn’t hit hard until she was told that the patient’s son was a transgender male. Sadly, the man lost his life at just 50 years old to terminal cancer, and he never got a chance to tell his son that.
A couple of days before my grandmother passed, she was really confused. She talked about my mother having a child a year or so after my own birth who was given up for adoption. She was talking about how sad and horrible this was and that I deserved to know. After my grandmother passed, I confronted my mom about it, who denied it, and I truly believed her.
A couple of months later, I found out the sad truth. It was my grandmother was the one who had put up a child for adoption. It was a baby girl who was born between my mother and aunt.
My partner's grandfather never spoke about his WWII service. He joined after lying about his name and age, so we couldn’t find any records, but he would have been 16 years old. He was in the Pacific somewhere, and when he got back, his lie was exposed. Because he was 18 by then, he was drafted under his real name and promptly taken into custody.
He was going to do anything he could not to get sent back to fight, so he got trashed and self-harmed. His adult life was mostly spent under the influence and being a terrible husband and father. However, in his later years, he was able to do some good. Having grandkids softened him. In his last hours, he relived his time in the service.
He said, “Oh God, they are here. The Japanese are behind us, sir. Get him. Get him. Jab him. Help! Medic”! He also had a string of names he kept saying. He had such a tormented, broken mind.
My father told me and my mother that he had swiped my mother's wedding jewelry a couple of years earlier and sold it to invest in stocks he thought were a sure thing. He lost all the money. Everybody in the family had blamed my oldest brother because he had a bad gambling addiction, and he had taken stuff from everyone multiple times before.
We never told anyone about this. Years later, everyone still thinks it was my brother.
I worked at a hospital in a small town near Munich. My job there was not fancy at all. I moved people around, threw out the trash, and occasionally did some maintenance work. I got to see a lot of patients come and go. I remembered a few instances of people confessing to me their biggest regrets. There were two that stood out.
One was a Polish lady who told me that she used to be a lady of the night during WWII. She said that she slept with "very high up" people in the government. She told me that although she did not regret that part of her life, she could not tell anyone about it either. She told me that was a heavy emotional burden on her. She also told me that she aborted more than five babies during that time.
The other was an old truck driver who used to work for an Eastern German company. He told me that he once ran over some kids with his truck but was too afraid to stop and check if they were alright.
I have a humorous story from one of my favorite patients. He was a hilarious man who passed about three years ago. He was obese, had diabetes, and for years I was advising him on getting into better shape. He was charming and always joked about his problems as opposed to actually addressing them. That was just the way he was.
Eventually, he developed bad leg ulcers as a complication of diabetes and underwent a below-the-knee amputation. When I saw him in the intensive care unit when he was extubated after his operation, he struggled to talk, but had to get his typical greeting in. He said: "Good news doctor, I've finally lost weight!" The poor guy passed just ten minutes later from a massive myocardial infarction.
I’m not a doctor, but right before my late grandfather passed, he asked his doctor: "Is the order given?" And without missing a beat, his doctor immediately replied with: "The order is given". My grandfather passed about five minutes later. He was a proud Trekkie right up until the end. Rest in peace, Grandpa! We all wish you were still around!
One of the hospice workers had a patient who was a bed-bound woman in her 90s. She was generally unresponsive but had flashes of recognition and engagement. It’s hard to gauge the level to which unresponsive patients are detached from their surroundings, so they encourage family members to keep them company in hopes of soothing the patient.
This patient was from a US state that prided itself on its state university and the university’s football team. The woman’s family had attended this university for four or five generations. During her hospice care, however, her great-granddaughter was the first in their family to decide to go to a different school—the rival state’s university.
Her family was supportive of her decision but often joked about her being the “rebel” or “Judas” or what-have-you. One day, they were all sitting around the woman’s bedside, teasing the girl about her decision. Suddenly, the patient sat up, looked at her great-granddaughter—then she uttered an unforgettable last word. She said, “Traitor,” and then bit it.
I worked with the elderly at a day center. A 90-something-year-old man who was very loved by everyone was going to use euthanasia—which was permitted in our country—that afternoon. All the nurses and social workers were pretty emotional on his last day. It can be weird to talk to someone in the morning, knowing they will end their lives that afternoon. I went on a walk with him.
I was pushing his wheelchair, and we just talked about life. In that one hour, he taught me so much about life. He told all about his experience from WWII, how it affected him, and how he overcame it. He never told anyone, not even his wife, about everything that happened. He gave me so many life lessons that day, and I will always be thankful for that.
I had a great aunt who was a nun. When she met my wife before we got married, she point-blank asked if we were already doing the deed. I sheepishly replied yes, waiting to be chastised for having pre-marital relations. Her response shook me right up. She replied, “Good, it is important to know the quality of the product before you buy it”.
It was the funniest thing I’ve ever heard coming from a 90-year-old nun dressed in a full habit.
My grandmother was from Spain. At some point in my life, I was like, "Why don't I know how to speak Spanish"? So, I asked my mom since I had never heard her speak Spanish either. She said, "My mom came to America and was one of the 'we are in America now, so we speak English now' people". When we started pestering her to teach us Spanish, she claimed that she had forgotten how to speak it.
We all kind of thought she was full of garbage, but she was adamant about it. She was sharp as a tack until her mid-90s and lived alone. Finally, we had to move her to our house and then to assisted living because she wanted to be closer to her friends. When she ended up in a nursing home because she was on her last legs and her mind started to go, we caught her speaking Spanish to the primarily Hispanic staff.
She basically had to go senile to forget that she told us that she couldn't speak Spanish. It was an unintentional confession that she always knew how to speak the language, but she just didn't want to because it wasn't the American thing to do.
My step-father had emailed me the night he passed. The message was full of secrets. In general, he was always in pain from chemo, cancer, medication, and whatnot. He did not want to continue spending money as he withered away. He asked me to never tell the rest of the family, "I'm taking all my sleeping pills tonight after your mom goes to bed. With luck, she'll never know the truth. It would break her".
After that, he was gone.
I was once the nurse for a chronically ill man who was around the age of 97. He woke during a code and, to our surprise, started speaking to us. He said: "Please, just let me pass. It's okay. You can stop now. I'm ready to go". He looked right at me when he said it. Our eyes were locked together. We stopped our efforts to save him at that point.
He passed peacefully and in his own way, on his own terms. There was something very redeeming and peaceful about that.
My grandmother's last words to me were "I love you too". She was in hospice very abruptly. Five days before, she had been up and walking around. But now, they put her in hospice that day and she went into a deep sleep. They didn’t think she would make it. I was sitting next to her, looking at her and trying to etch into my head how beautiful she was so I could keep her memory with me for the rest of my life.
It's scary to think about and I truly hope that I never forget her. She was moving around and I was hoping she would hear me. I told her that I loved her, and she opened her eyes for a second and said "I love you too". I couldn't take it. I walked out, cried, and went home. I never went back. I woke up two days later to my mom sobbing, saying she had passed and that it was time for us to go and say goodbye.
I cherish those last words more than I could ever express.
My mother is a nurse. She was in my grandmother's hospital room at the moment when she suddenly roused from her comatose state and said, "Oh God, it felt like I was in a coffin. How terrible!" Immediately after saying that, she shut her eyes and fell silent again. She passed about an hour later. In light of her last words, we knew what we had to do.
We changed her funeral arrangements so that she would be cremated instead of buried. Seemed like the right thing to do.
I walked into my mom's room, and she was just sitting in her chair with her head tilted and looking off into the distance. After a minute, she looked at me, smiled, and said, "Well, that's it then, there's nothing more to do". She wasn't very lucid at the time, so I just carried on with our visit, and when they brought her supper, I told her goodnight.
A few hours later, the nurse called me and said that she had suddenly taken a turn for the worse. I held her hand while she passed, but she never said anything more.
I once cared for a man who was in the hospital because of his cancer. He was partially paralyzed from the waist down. One time I walked up to him in his room. He was sad and emotional. So I sat next to him and let him talk. He said that he was done living, and he didn’t want to be in the hospital. At the end of the conversation, he said, “I wish a train would pass by”.
Ten minutes after my shift was over, he passed. It wasn’t and still isn’t obvious what caused him to go right then. For all we know, he couldn’t get to the train, so the train got him.
My aunt watched her elderly mother fall down the stairs. Just before she lost her life, she made a shocking confession. She revealed that she wasn't my aunt's biological mother. She told my aunt that her oldest sister was actually her mother. The sister had gotten pregnant too young, and the mom said it was hers, which was a common way of handling it back then.
She revealed it in her very last breath.
While on her final legs, my grandma confessed to taking someone's life. Usually, you’d think it was the pain relief meds, but she was such an eccentric–it was actually believable. We traced all her ex-husbands, partners, and any other likely candidates. Fortunately, none of them had gone missing or met any type of untimely passing. However, sometimes, I wonder.
My grandpa called us into his bedroom as he was going to sleep after his birthday party. When we were all in the room, he calmly said: "I think I've had enough. 92 years is plenty. I won't be here in the morning. I love each and every one of you, and you have made my life a joyous one. Good night, everybody!" We all thought he was just losing it.
But he didn't wake up in the morning. He completely called it.
I was taking care of a WWII Veteran with dementia. He would say the number "22" over and over, and the family never knew the significance of it. The number didn't line up with any significant events or dates that they were aware of. The day before he passed, his mental state became incredibly clear, and he started telling the staff, "Twenty-two men. I offed 22 men over there".
The poor guy had lived with that anguish for more than 50 years.
My mother ran a nursing home when I was growing up. From the ages of five to ten, I spent every weekend with residents. Because I was a kid, residents often confessed stuff they thought I wouldn’t understand. One woman who was about 96 was nearing the end. She had her last burst of energy/life where she thought she was better.
An African-American delivery man came in with some flowers. After he left, she looked at me with tears in her eyes and said, “I can’t believe I’m dying without having been with a colored man”. The other occurred while I was reading Bible verses to a resident. Suddenly they said, “I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean to drop that baby in the well”.
My great-grandfather was not a nice man. He had left home at just eight years old and fended for himself for his entire life. He beat his children, and I assume he did the same to his wife. She left him and the kids behind. This occurred during the 30s, so I assumed that he didn't allow her to take the kids with her, especially since women’s rights were not great back then.
While on his last legs, my nasty great-grandpa told his boys that he had a bunch of money stashed on the old property and that if they went to see him, he would tell them where it was. It had a heartbreaking effect. Even still, no one went.
My mom was adopted. My grandparents never kept it a secret and they loved my mom like their own. When she was growing up, she tried to find out as much as she could about her and her adopted brother’s birth parents. Back in those days though, information like that wasn’t exactly the easiest to find. My mom and uncle were brought to the orphanage with little to no information on each of their biological parents, or it was requested to be kept secret.
Eventually, my mom found enough information from notes she had gathered, like which families might have been most likely to be related to her, some property information that one can find at the library, etc. She sort of pieced this puzzle together about her life. At a certain point, she was able to get the names of her mother and her brother’s mother.
She was able to find out she was part of a big family, with lots of brothers and sisters. However, for my uncle, he found out that his mother had passed not long after placing him for adoption. By the time she had gathered all of this information, my mom was married, had my older sister, and was pregnant with me. Somehow, she got a phone number. That phone number went to the house of her biological mother.
She called, and the voice of a young boy answered. My mom asked for the name she knew, and she heard, “Yeah, one second. Hey Mom, phones for you”. The woman and my mother spoke. It was a horrific conversation. This woman was not comfortable with my mom contacting her at all. She didn’t ask my mom a lot of questions, but my mom said that she was just going to talk, and if she wanted to hang up at any point, she could.
My mom gave her a short version of the story of her life, and then the conversation was over. After that, my mom’s biological mother would send letters to her on occasion, but she made a point of telling my mom she could never be found out by the rest of her family. This woman carried that secret with her until the day she was about to leave the earth.
While on her last legs, one of her daughters asked her, “Will you tell us where you went when you went away that time”? The woman finally confessed that she had gone to a home for unwed mothers all those years ago to have my mom, who was the child of her affair with the milkman.
My perfect mother said she was harmed by her older cousin and named him when she was a small child. I didn't ask her to go into details, and she passed a few hours after telling me. I never told anybody, not even my dad, who later passed. I have no idea if he even knew. I'm afraid this was something my mom held inside and suffered alone with her whole life.
It hurts and haunts me to think that.
I worked for a federal law enforcement agency. We covered major offenses, some of which were related to organized syndicates, not Mafia per se, but open-ended illicit enterprises. We had a mid-level player as a suspect for a string of cargo thefts, heists, etc. We knew him for years and had taken him into custody several times.
He taunted us a fair bit, but lung cancer got a hold of him before we could build a solid case. Things went downhill fast. We went to see him at home, just before he transferred to hospice. That he did at least half of what we suspected was an open secret. I knew it and he knew it. For whatever reason, he chose to give me a break.
He said, “If I give you something, will you sit on it for a few weeks”? Initially, I could not agree, but he assured me that it could wait, so I agreed. He told me, “I know that you are looking at me, but I didn’t do it”. He admitted wanting to do the job, then told me who was actually responsible and where we could find solid evidence to implicate 5–6 people.
When I asked him why he decided to tell me, he said, the other guy “never treated anybody right”. I did not ask him to elaborate. I shared the information about three weeks later, after the informant passed. However, I never had to share information about the source because he pointed us to substantial corroborating evidence.
There was a gentleman nearing the end who was 56 years old. He was mad and yelling that he started at an early age going to preschool, to get into the right grade school, to get into the right high school, to get into the right Ivy League university, and to finally get a high-paying job. That was the year he was supposed to set up his family for life, being able to fund their college and pay off the mortgage.
This went on for about four hours before he passed. It was truly tragic.
When my uncle was 13, he had a brain tumor and was hanging on for dear life. My grandmother refused to leave the hospital, and he asked her to go home to eat and take a shower. He was paralyzed at that point—it was pretty horrific. As soon as she got home the phone rang and he had passed. My mom said the nurses told them he was holding on because she was there.
He didn’t want to go while she was with him because it would be hard on her. The nurses said a lot of patients do that.
I had an uncle who was a heavy drinker and just known for being a bit crazy—wild, not mentally unwell, although I suspected the latter was also true. The morning after a family party, a mattress in the house was found reeking of pee. No one knew who the culprit was, and he naturally got the blame, though he vehemently denied it. His last words while he was near the end were, “It wasn’t me that peed the bed”!
It had clearly bothered him for years that he had been blamed for that, which was a minor thing compared to the many other things he had done!
I'm not a doctor or nurse or anything like that, and I know this isn’t exactly an example of last “words” per se, but I do have a very interesting story that I feel is worth sharing here. When one of my grandpas passed, he let out a series of three loud, hoarse, and dry screams that I will never forget for as long as I live. It was just the end of a long, painful fight for him.
I had a patient who was perfectly fine. But when I came back the next night, they'd taken a turn for the worse. They'd had a massive stroke mid-morning. The family had decided against surgery due to age factors and other things. The wife was telling me they had a good life together and had been married for about 40–50 years. She kept vigil at the bedside all night.
All the kids and grandkids were there too. I told them although the patient was unconscious, they could still hear. So, I encouraged the family to keep talking to them and tell them everything they wanted to say before it was too late. Around 4 AM, I could tell the patient was close to the end, and the wife asked me if it was time.
I gave her an honest answer. Her reaction haunts me to this day. She became inconsolable, clutching the patient’s hand. She kept crying that she wasn’t ready to say goodbye, that she had so many other plans for them to live out. She said that she didn’t want them to go, and she wished she hadn’t withdrawn treatment so that they could have more time together. The patient passed 15 minutes later.
I had one male in his 90s talk about how he had been a part of a prejudiced group in his youth and how ashamed he was of disturbingly mistreating people of color and even some white Catholics. He'd had several CNAs and patient care techs who were minorities, and he was always polite and even loving towards them. I could tell how deeply his past haunted him.
He asked me not to share this information with any of the staff. In the last days before he became too weak to speak anymore, he asked one of the African-American RNs I worked with if she forgave him. She didn’t know what he was asking forgiveness for but told him she did and helped him, "Get right with Jesus". He passed peacefully a couple of days later.
I’m not a doctor or nurse, but I don’t care. This is my story. When my mother passed, her last words were: "I can't breathe. I don't want to die. Please. I'm scared". Then came a raspy, choke, scream gurgle thing. She was so pale. Her eyes were so big. My mother’s passing was just four months after she was first diagnosed with Stage Four ovarian cancer.
Before her final words, she was very in and out of consciousness for weeks. Her level of awareness and actions shifted drastically during that time. She thought I was an angel. She threw a bowl of food at me. She told me, "Tell your brother..". before she slipped into her last sleep before the last words thing. Yeah. Screw cancer.
My great grandfather was in his mid-90s when he passed. His health had always been good, but a benign tumor that was deemed too dangerous to operate on at his age went septic. He was gone a week later. Before he passed, I went to visit him in the hospital. My family used to see him a lot, but there was a falling out between him and my grandma several years before, so we stopped seeing them.
Even so, I constantly ran into my great-grandpa at the store, and we always had nice chats. While in the hospital, he told me not to worry about him. Most everyone he had ever known was gone, and he was ready to go as well. The week he felt himself getting sick, he knew something was off and made arrangements to get my great-grandma into a nursing home.
He took care of her while she had Alzheimer's, and he wouldn't pass until he knew she was taken care of. They had been married for over 70 years.
Two days before my father passed from heart failure, my older brother and sister sat by his bed talking to him. He was conscious and able to speak. My siblings reminded him of how he was really good and kind to his parents. He cried, and he said, “ I am happy that I was a good son. I love all my kids because they are kind and good to me”. Then he said every kid's individual name.
Later that day, his only surviving brother called him and wished he would come home. My dad said, “I am not coming home. This is it for me”.
The patient who passed was a 29-year-old male, who said, "I wish there was more," before he went to sleep and never woke up. It left me with such a spooky and dark feeling about life in general.
I’m not a doctor or a nurse, but I was working as an EMS for a while and responded to a lot of deadly car accidents. One time, a victim of a car wreck looked me directly in the eye as we had just extricated her from the vehicle and said "Tell my daughter". She then immediately lost consciousness. I told her thirteen year old daughter that "Mommy said she loved you very much right before she passed".
I was a lifeguard for a long, long time. The worst words I ever heard were from this one kid who passed at my beach. I pulled him out of the water with a few other lifeguards, and we took turns performing rescue breathing. He eventually became conscious and began to cough up his water. He was alive and active for a few minutes, and even said "Thank you" to me.
Then, he sat up and immediately fell back down. We thought he had just passed out, but it turned out that a few minutes later he passed from something called "Secondary Drowning" that they don't cover nearly enough in the training for lifeguard certification. This kid’s passing still haunts me to this day. I wish I could have been able to save him.
I’m not a doctor or a nurse, but I do have a perfect story to answer this question with. My own grandfather's last words while I was sitting with him in the hospital were: "Heh, you know, I enjoyed every minute of my life from the womb until the tomb. Maybe I will enjoy the other side just as much!" What an epic way to go out!
My late grandmother's last words to the nurse on duty when she passed was, "Time is not what you think it is". She kept repeating that phrase over and over again, then passed. They pulled me aside when I arrived and told me how strange and alert her eyes were as she kept repeating the statement about time. I still wonder about this to this day. What was she trying to tell us?
I work in a hospital and very often see patients who are on the verge of losing their lives. It’s a very tragic thing to have to witness, and I don’t wish it on anyone out there. I’ve heard many memorable last words, but nothing compares to this one. The lady who actively and intentionally took off the only thing keeping her alive immediately after saying, "Screw this, I'm out".
The craziest thing that I've ever seen was a skinny woman who went into cardiac arrest and, since it was witnessed, we were able to start compressions immediately. As we compressed her heart, she would wake up and kick us, and also try to scream. The second we stopped the compressions, she would go back out. It was the same cycle over and over again for as long as we could keep it up.
This continued over and over again for a good half hour or so, until the cardiologist finally ordered us to stop. We had a nurse dedicated to speaking into her ear to try to reassure her and get her to stop kicking. It didn’t really work. In her mind, she was kicking for her life. It was incredibly sad and difficult to watch.
I’m an ambulance worker. While I was attempting to save a man’s life who was burning to his demise in a car accident, he sputtered out "Please God, not like this". I wish this story was fake, but tragically it really did happen and the poor guy didn’t make it through. On a lighter note, though, I've been told that Sam Houston's last words were to his wife.
On his deathbed, he allegedly said: "Texas, Marie. Texas!" Because, Texas!
My grandmother's last words to me were: "I love you too". I'm not a nurse, nor am I a doctor. And the words weren't weird, creepy, funny, or anything else like that. I just wanted to share this story with someone and express how lucky I feel I was to have had that farewell. I know not everyone gets the opportunity to say goodbye like that.
I had an old lady who gave me some questionable advice. She was this 90-something Italian nonna, all dressed in black skirts and dripping with rosary beads and crucifixes. She was very Catholic—and yet her last words were so naughty. She told me, "To be happy in life, you need three men. One for the money, one for the love, and one for the boom-boom-boom".
It was certainly memorable.
I’m not a nurse or a doctor, but my grandpa was once told by his medical caregivers that he would likely pass in his sleep that night. When he woke up at around 6:00 in the morning, he awkwardly looked around the room and said: "Wow, I'm still here!" He then promptly fell back asleep and never woke up. What a legend that guy was! Rest in peace, Grandpa!
I remember my aunt warning me what was happening as my grandpa was passing. Basically, he had mesothelioma and started coughing up blood. Moments before the end, he just turned to my grandma with a scared look on his face and said, "No, I'm not ready!" I came to find out after the fact that what he was most upset about with passing was not being able to watch the grandkids grow up.
My brother and cousin were barely out of diapers, and I was the next youngest at the age of eight. That broke my heart more than anything.
I had a patient who was fighting a losing battle with cancer. His last words to me were “I need a tree.” I have no idea what he meant by that, but the words have stuck with me ever since.
I once had a patient cryptically say to themselves, "And no one ever figured me out!" right before he passed. Who knows what on earth he could have been referring to. He must have had one heck of a secret. Part of me wants to start looking into his past out of curiosity, but that’s probably not something that’s ever gonna happen realistically speaking.
My girlfriend just told me the story of her grandma's last words. Her grandma had a stroke, and could barely talk anymore. Shortly before she passed, she motioned for my girlfriend to come closer to her. She mouthed words, barely audible, and my girlfriend couldn't understand them or make out what they were. So she leaned in closer, but still nothing.
Finally, she leaned closer again, at which point her grandma smacked her in the head, laughed, and said "Got ya!" And those were her last words to my girlfriend!
I once had a patient call me over to his bedside just moments before he passed, in order to tell me that his “saxophone was broken.” It felt so strange and surreal. As far as I know, this patient was not a musician and did not play the saxophone. Nor did he have access to any saxophones or other instruments while in the hospital. I still have no clue what he meant…
When my grandpa was on his deathbed, my dad and I visited him in the hospital. My dad brought him a nature book one day since he loved nature. When he was healthy, he would literally spend hours sitting outside watching birds and other animals. My dad just held the book up in front of him and flipped the pages as my grandpa silently looked at the pictures.
He didn't make a sound the whole time, until we reached a page that had a picture of beavers on it. My grandpa, in a frail, weak voice, said: "Stupid beavers". Those turned out to be his last words. He passed the next day, and we all still miss him very much. At least we can look back on the fond memories that we shared together.
I'm not a doctor or a nurse, but I feel like this story belongs here. As my mom was passing, she was reaching out and calling for her mother who had been deceased for more than thirty years. She was speaking in her native language, so I could only understand her mom's name. However, the last thing that she said in English was, "Oh well!"
She repeated this dozens of times, all while laughing. I'm not sure I could sum up life any better than that. Oh well! Screw cancer.
This man in hospice was a heavy drinker. This isn't usually a problem because when in hospice, you can get whatever you want as long as it is not against the law. However, when he drank, he became violent, so he was forbidden from having booze as a result. Between his requests for booze, he talked about how he and a friend got into a massive fight over some land and his equipment being borrowed.
As a result, they hadn’t spoken in 20 years. He said he didn’t even know why it was such a big deal and regretted being that aggressive. Basically said he missed his best friend and wished they didn't lose all those years.
I am a nurse and I work in a local hospital. I have had sooo many patients over the years say the exact same thing just before they pass: “I just don't feel so good…” Then BAM, they’re gone. The one such memory that bothers me the most is a guy who was having a big heart attack. It was really hectic and my partner and I were trying to get some information.
For whatever reason, we kept forgetting his first name. After asking him for a third or fourth time, he looked me straight in the eye and said “You guys really don't listen to each other, do you?” Cue instant seizure, coma, v tach, and passing. I felt absolutely terrible about that one. I now actively ensure that I listen to patients a whole lot better.
My grandfather lived into his 90s. According to my grandma, his last lucid words the day before he passed was when he called out, "Unpoop my pants"! It wasn’t very profound but very memorable because that song was popular at the time. Now I always imagine that line sung in Toni Braxton's voice.
I had this one older man where I used to work who would never talk unless his daughter was in the room. She asked something about her stepmother, who had passed a couple of years before I started working there. Her passing was the reason this man had to come to the nursing home. One of the days after she left, I was getting him ready for bed—and that's when he dropped his bombshell confession.
The last thing he said before passing was, "I should have finished the job of drowning her and burning down the house".
My great uncle actually confessed in front of his own children and grandchildren to having two illegitimate sons right before he kicked the bucket. The crazy thing was that none of his children knew this life of his. Not even my great aunt knew about it because she would have made a huge fuss if she was alive at that time if she did know.
What was crazier was that these two sons already passed five and seven years ahead of him, respectively. He was 98 years old, and his “invisible” sons were 65 and 69 years old. The children found out that one of his invisible sons actually was a teacher at a school that his granddaughters attended when they were in high school.
Nevertheless, his children decided to reach out to the children of his invisible sons. They got connected and learned even more stuff about my granduncle. The craziest thing was that I actually dated one of the granddaughters of one of the invisible sons. Talk about a few degrees of separation!
My grandma had a tough life. She was always harmed physically and emotionally by my grandfather. When she started showing signs of Alzheimer's, my grandpa turned up the dial—and started kneeing her and pinching her. As a result, we took her in during her last months. A few days before her passing, my grandpa came visiting and pinched her cheeks and messed with her, expecting no resistance.
However, she had a moment of clarity and snapped. She swatted away his hand and shouted, "Stop it. I'm sick of you and your ways. Go, leave, now. I don't ever want to see you again, not ever". She was always a sweet and happy woman and watching her stand up for herself at last always makes me smile.
I can't remember my grandma's final words. But when she was passing, I sang a song for her that she always sang for me as a little girl. The song went “I love my baby sugah,” except I sang it as I love my granny sugah. She was in a totally unresponsive state with her eyes frozen open and dried out. When I finished singing to her, a giant stream of tears just flooded out her eyes.
I'm glad those were my final words to her. The tears said more than any words possibly could have. My grandpa, on the other hand, went into a coma and woke up. He then promptly demanded that I bring him some "tacas" from "the bell". I explained that this wasn't becoming for a severely diabetic man on dialysis with massive organ failure. He got pissed. I got him tacos. He left this world happy.
This is my dad's story. He and his fire engine rush to respond to a kitchen fire that was started when an older woman caught her pajamas on fire with a stove. She apparently ran back and forth in her kitchen, on fire, and set the entire kitchen on fire in the process. By the time they arrive, she is extremely burnt, including on her face.
This, on top of her age, causes one of the firemen to mistake her for a male. He stands beside the gurney saying things like "It's going to be alright, sir. We're going to take you to a hospital, sir". What's left of her eyelids open, and she rasps out: "I'm a lady!" And then she passed right on the spot. It was such a sad thing to hear about.
One day, many years ago, my family and I were all eating dinner together when my grandfather suddenly told me to "eat my green beans," and then passed moments later. It all just happened out of the blue, with no warning signs whatsoever. It was a shocking and tragic experience to go through. But let’s just say I eat the heck out of my green beans to this day…
I worked in hospice for a while and always had my nurses call me when one of our patients passed, regardless of the time. The only time I ever heard one sound shaken up was when she went with our chaplain to check on a patient with lung cancer who was actively passing. For those who don't know, lung cancer patients typically suffocate as their lungs fill up with fluid.
Their energy is so sapped from shallow breathing that they don't usually communicate much a week or more before they pass. This one patient was no different, except that right before he passed he became completely coherent. He hit our chaplain with a thousand-yard stare and said "If you've screwed this up, I swear to God I'll haunt you".
If there is a heaven, I hope he got in. Our chaplain was a nice guy!
I was raised by my grandmother and my great-grandmother. My grandmother passed from a swift, but rather excruciating battle with pancreatic cancer. From the date of her diagnosis of stage four cancer to the date of her passing was approximately just one month. This was several years ago, and I was around 21 years old at the time.
I had already been married to my wife for two years by that point. My wife was young when we met, and we both made a lot of bad decisions back then. We had a son together, who is now seven years old. He was only a toddler at the time. The last words that my grandmother ever said to me broke my heart. She said, "Don't trust that wife of yours, darling".
Now, keep in mind that my grandmother was my favorite adult and grandparent for my entire childhood and life. Her comment didn't really affect me much at the time. But now, seven years later, about to have my ninth anniversary and second child with my wife who has never wavered for even a moment in her love for me, nor me to her, it has been really difficult to reflect back and dwell on the fact that my grandmother truly felt that way about my wife.
I loved my grandmother dearly and I still do, but often all I can think about when I try to reflect on my time with her is that last statement. That, and the horrible condition that she was in when I was visiting her in the hospital every day for several hours. Let’s just say that watching someone you are so close to pass from cancer is not a pleasant memory, or something that you can easily forget.
Sorry, but reading all of these stories made me need to get that out. Thanks for listening if you did.
I once had a man witness his own heart stop. He was having an arrhythmia. I'll spare you from the gruesome details. Basically, I had the defib turned towards him in the ambulance. He was watching the monitor as I was treating him and his heart stopped cold. He looked at me with a panic, put his hand on my knee, and went down.
The poor guy literally watched his own heart stop when he passed.
My grandfather lost his life in a bar when my father was still a toddler. The official story was that he was attacked over a pinball game. Back then, pinball was taken pretty seriously, I guess. It wasn't until recently that my grandmother made a surprise deathbed confession. She told us that my grandfather had actually taken someone else’s life and buried the body, days before his own demise.
So he was actually targeted in retaliation for a terrible thing that he had committed. Pinball was just the excuse. My grandmother kept this secret for almost 65 years.
My wife's grandmother, who raised her, believed that when you are about to die your deceased relatives show up to escort you to heaven. She was by all accounts a horrible person. On her deathbed her last words were, in a quiet terrified voice, "They're not coming".
I had a co-worker "Larry" who was in a job-site accident. Basically, he was underneath some scaffolding when it was backed into by a vehicle and collapsed on top of him. He was pinned down, couldn't feel his legs, and was bleeding from a head wound. Larry was 100% convinced he was going to die. We were trying to pull the scaffold off and render first aid and all that, and he kept asking to use a phone to call his wife "Suzie".
Our supervisor gave him a phone. Larry called Suzie and confessed to everything. What he told her was truly shocking. He admitted to having multiple affairs, looting from Suzie's parents, creeping on their neighbor's teenage daughter and doing coke with Suzie's sister. Larry was crying, telling her he was so sorry, begging for forgiveness.
Turns out Larry was just pinned down by a couple of tubes and bracers that fell together just right and was tight enough to pinch a nerve and slow circulation a bit. He got six stitches on his head and some bruises, and that was the extent of his physical injuries. However, he did lose his house, his pickup truck, custody of his kids, and half his paycheck to child support and alimony.
Plus he got written up for not wearing a hard hat under scaffolding.
When my partner had cancer, most of his four daughters from a previous marriage somehow made my partner’s cancer about them. They made a few meals and brought them over, but their Facebook posts said they’d cooked 20 meals. Four weeks later, they came to visit during treatment in another town. They made it as impossible as they could for me to see him.
These daughters told him not to cry, because it upset them. When he went on palliative care, he didn't want to tell them at first because he didn’t want them to visit him. After a week, he felt bad and asked me to tell them. Of course, they all arrived, with partners and kids. They were upset they couldn't stay with us—all 15 of them.
They blamed me for keeping them away from their dad. They said: “We were there first and it's our special time as a family.” Their special time was to sit in the same room as him all day, talking and laughing between themselves, ignoring their dad and only waking him up during the day because they thought he wouldn't sleep that night. An hour before he passed, my partner’s last words were heartbreaking.
He told me: “We should never have told them I was dying. It would’ve been so much easier without them here and I hate how they treat you.” And then, he dropped a real zinger: “By the way, three of them are not mine. My first wife had lots of affairs.” I wish they’d heard every word.
I was with my mother when she passed. She needed a high-pressure ventilator to survive as her lungs were so honeycombed. Not enough oxygen getting to her bloodstream. After a lung collapsed, she decided enough was enough and told the nursing team to take her off the high-pressure ventilator and let her try to breathe by herself, knowing full well she wouldn't be able to.
After some preparation and a load of morphine to help her, they did as she asked. She started to panic almost immediately and grabbed my arm. Her last words were "Help me". I've never felt more helpless. She slipped into an unresponsive state soon after and passed the next day. It was only a couple of years ago but it's right to talk about these things rather than bottle it up.
This was a weird one for me and actually apropos for my current life. I still think about her. This happened maybe six or seven years ago. She was an older female in her 70s with a history of breast cancer. At that point, she was in the ICU for sepsis, I believe. I talked to her and she mentioned she was widowed. I gave my condolences and stated “That’s hard, I’m sorry about your loss. I imagine you miss him.” Her response shocked me.
To my surprise, she told me, “No, actually I don’t. I was relieved when he went. I was never happy with him. I didn’t leave him because that’s not what we did back in the day. So here I wasted many years with a man who didn’t treat me well, and now I have cancer.” Oof. Life lesson folks.
My husband had a cardiac event that required an ambulance. As the ambulance was arriving I asked him if the code to open his phone was XXXX, he said yes, then looked up at me and said, "I am so sorry". He had successful surgery, but had several strokes on the operating table and was taken off life support after seven days. That’s when I learned his dark secret.
When I opened his phone I found out he was having an affair. The same code to his phone also opened his laptop where I found telephone recordings of him and his girlfriend, as well as screenshots of their chats. I don't know how interesting this is, but it was certainly devastating to me.
It’s true what they say: money makes the world go round. In order to succeed in this life, you need to have a good grasp of key financial concepts. That’s where Moneymade comes in. Our mission is to provide you with the best financial advice and information to help you navigate this ever-changing world. Sometimes, generating wealth just requires common sense. Don’t max out your credit card if you can’t afford the interest payments. Don’t overspend on Christmas shopping. When ordering gifts on Amazon, make sure you factor in taxes and shipping costs. If you need a new car, consider a model that’s easy to repair instead of an expensive BMW or Mercedes. Sometimes you dream vacation to Hawaii or the Bahamas just isn’t in the budget, but there may be more affordable all-inclusive hotels if you know where to look.
Looking for a new home? Make sure you get a mortgage rate that works for you. That means understanding the difference between fixed and variable interest rates. Whether you’re looking to learn how to make money, save money, or invest your money, our well-researched and insightful content will set you on the path to financial success. Passionate about mortgage rates, real estate, investing, saving, or anything money-related? Looking to learn how to generate wealth? Improve your life today with Moneymade. If you have any feedback for the MoneyMade team, please reach out to [email protected]. Thanks for your help!
The Moneymade team
If you like humaverse you may also consider subscribing to these newsletters: