What Song Do You Want to Hear As You Die?

So, you know, they say hearing is the last sentence to go when someone's dying, right? And I believe it. I've said it enough bedsides to believe that. Breath gets slow, hands get cold, eyes may close one last time, but the ears kind of hang on, you know, I've whispered things in the ears I wasn't even sure were still listening. I've told people, you know, you're not alone, or you can go if you need to. We love you. We're sorry. And I've watched I felt something shift, like the soul perks up for a sound, like it's trying to take one last piece of the world with it before it's slipping out.

And there's something holy about that, something wild to know that sound is the final thread connecting us here. You know that even in the fog between life and death, music, laughter, a familiar voice, they still matter. So it got me thinking. Today I was speaking to a group of college students, and I asked this question often, but I asked them because I was talking about being a death doula. And it made me want to come here and ask the same thing. What's the last song you want to hear before you die?

And not your favorite song, not the one that gets most played on your Spotify rapped. I'm talking about the one that, when you hear, would make your soul say, yes, that's it. I'm ready to go now. You know, is it something soft? Something that rocked you to sleep as a kid? Is it the song that played when you had your first slow dance or when your heart broke so bad you couldn't even breathe right? So what is it? Maybe it's the track that makes you feel free. Windows down, hand out the window. You know, doing this thing like we did when we were kids, you know, wind in your face, life buzzing in your ears, you know, And I'll go first, right?

So my. My song. And it's been the Same song since 2014. It's Red Dust by James Vincent McMurray. His voice, right, so tender. It's like, fractured. It feels like light is pulling through grief. And it hits me every time. You know, there's this line in it that says, sometimes my hands, they don't feel like my own. And I swear it's like the whole body just exhales when I hear it. I mean, the song feels like it makes space for, you know, mess and ache and beauty. It feels like surrender, like the kind of letting go that doesn't feel like loss.

So if I'm lucky enough to choose. And I hope I am. That's the one that I want carrying me out. So what about you? What melody do you want echoing in your ears as you leave this place? Because, I mean, whether you know it or not, someone will probably be there. If we're lucky enough to get a deathbed. If you want the deathbed, some may want to go instantly. But, you know, maybe it's a friend, maybe it's a stranger, maybe it's a doctor. Your breath will become shallow, your body still. But your ears, they'll still be trying to catch something.

Some sign, some rhythm. So I ask one more time, so you know, from a place of love not really a place of fear. What's the last song you want to hear before you die? And if you don't know yet, maybe this is an invitation to start listening to music like your life depends on it. Because in some strange way, it kind of does. Thank you.