Dad's Last Words | The Dreamweaver

I was curious to know what words, if any, my father might have uttered on his deathbed, so I called my mother to ask.

She said he did indeed speak at the end, and that it was one single word, a name, Jackie.

"Who is Jackie?" I asked.

"Jackie," my mother replied, "was your father’s first born child who died just ten days after being born; she was his and Diane’s first child."

Then my mother, who was now standing before me, reached into her purse and pulled out her compact, flipped open the top, and a grainy black and white film began to play on the compact’s tiny round mirror; it was my father, just seconds before he passed, touching a finger to his lips and ever so faintly whispering the word, “Jackie,” before taking his last breath and closing his eyes for the last time.

Then I woke up.