It really is the ultimate mystery isn't it?

What people have said can be assumed to be a delusional experience. Lack of oxygen to the brain can cause changes to the brain.

Or, is it an event that cannot be explained in human words? I kind of like that one.

But, why don't we have more comments at the end from those dying?
It is an experience that happens enough. More should be known by now, don't you think?

My personal favorite :
Henry James. "So here it is at last, the distinguished thing.."

Oh, Wow, Oh, Wow, Oh WOW! sounds appropriate, a friend's nephew died in his sleep last night, Brad was only 39, so, whatever we accomplish, and those who will remember us, that's really the important thing. (from my experiences, I remember being bedside, and people calling for their mother) I think I like Oh, Wow better.

As Victoria asks -- "Why do we not have more comments by those at the very end?" Indeed. So many people have had the experience. As I posted here recently, the number is reported to be about 108 billion people since people have been counted as 'people'. Who knows what the real number is, but it's obviously a great many, and yet we have a relatively small data set of details of those last moments of consciousness. Much of the reason may be due to the fact that many people, perhaps the majority, don't do a lot talking, or a lot of intelligible talking, just before dying.

In the category of interesting things said, the two people to whom I was physically closest at the end of their lives are my in-laws. At the moment they were pronounced dead, both had been either sleeping or in another state of unconsciousness for at least a few hours and said nothing. But in the days just prior to that, both said a fair amount. One thing they each said was interesting and very similar, though they were in very different conditions and two years apart.

My father-in-law was fairly coherent when we last communicated meaningfully. He looked at me and said, "I'm going, only a few are going, four or five are going. Are you going?" He did not have dementia, but he had suffered two falls in which he sustained some head injury, over the previous months. The last was the one that led directly to his death, since the neurosurgery that was performed after the first was not advised. Over the next two days hospice provided care and he required a lot of medication for pain management, but when he asked me his question, he was pretty clear minded.

Two years later his wife was nearing the end of her life, and dementia was rapidly taking its course. Still, she had moments of surprising lucidity, during which had conversation much as we always had. In one of those moments, she looked at me and said, "I'm going. Only so many are going. " It was as if they were both at a train station or some place similar and everything was finally in place for their departure and they knew and accepted it and were letting me know. Within a couple of days, after those separate moments, they each, quietly, peacefully and apparently very comfortably left for whatever their destinations were. I don't think either was delusional at the time they spoke those words, and I have no explanation other than to say that life is full of mystery, and that this may be equally true of death. If it's all mechanistic and there is no meaning, then what's the point of worry or pondering on it any way?

Reported as Oscar Wilde's last words on his death bed...
"This wallpaper is killing me. One of us has to go.”

I have read that brain activity goes on for a bit, after we are clinically dead, but I would tend to think it was just the final commands from the brain to the body to shut down and perhaps some endorphin induced pleasantry of our own memories to make the final exit peaceful.

For most of us, I think the most pleasant, induced or otherwise, ending, would be seeing family and other loved ones.

But I wonder what people all alone and never attached much to anyone feel or "see." And people in war torn third world countries, other than relief from a very hard and discouraging life.

Perhaps these visions are relative to many factors.

When a close friend was dying of cancer some years ago, I remember the nurse saying, "Don't be surprised if she talks to others in the room. Often at the end loved ones appear and this is a common occurrence." I believe that it is not the brain's shutting down, but the soul's opening up. And that gives me comfort for my final days..... and yours, Ronnie.

I used to say my last earthly moment should be shared with my husband on Santorini, with great wine and my favorite three Pat Metheny albums.
Now that I'm quite a bit older I pray my husband outlives me.
I've given up on the idea of making it all the way to Santorini, and will settle for sunset on our beach with a tequila and those same albums. Make it what you want it to be. You're so lucky to live where you live and have control.
Wouldn't a tee shirt with *WoW* painted on the front be a fitting garment!

My favorite is (supposedly, there’s dispute) that of a Union general, whose name escapes me, during the American Civil War to a worried aide: “Don’t worry, they couldn’t hit an elephant at that dist…”

My Mom died in February at 96 and for days before she died she went on and on about how beautiful "it" was - she said "he has the most beautiful face" and we should believe because it was all true - she was in a semi-coma but would smile and was the happiest we had seen her in years.. I hope I see what she saw before leaving - she renewed my faith.

Fellow blogger, John Grey at Going Gently, wrote about this today.

My favorite last words are those of the German boxer Max Baer:

"Oh God, here I go!"