Paul Green
Years ago, one of my closest friends died from cancer. While visiting him in the hospice we talked about his funeral plans, what to do with all his stuff, and the possibility of communicating to me after his death. Before taking his final few breaths, he said “if you don’t hear from me it’s not because I’m not there it’s because you are not listening.”
The next day those words kept repeating in my mind. Were they just the ramblings of a patient on heavy narcotics? After all he thought a huge white bunny rabbit accompanied me when visiting a couple of days earlier. He also thought the headlights on my car were shinning into his room even though we were on the third floor during the day. In his typical jovial way, he dismissed both observations with a laugh as he realized the absurdity of what he just said. There was no such levity in what became his final words to me. He was answering the question that I was thinking but never actually said out loud.