I’ve had a sudden understanding with Orlando Bloom’s character at the beginning of Elizabethtown, and no, I’m not talking about the suicide bike. I’m talking about the face: terrified, and yet calm. Utterly, utterly calm. He talks about last looks, how someone looks at you when you know they think it’s for the last time. You know what he means. You’re probably looking at my blog this way right now.
I have no personal experience with such looks. I admit every time I’ve looked at someone for the last time, I didn’t know it would be (with one exception). And even then, unless they’re dead, who knows if it was really for the last time? I do know what it’s like to look at someone just in case it’s the last time. I do this often – half the time I see my family, and even more often when I’m signing out of my blog. Recently, because I’ve moved again for the third time in a year, I’ve been looking at people who I know I won’t see again for some time. Which is just a last-look-for-a-while. Those suck, too.
My mother is an artist, and I know she sees more than I do. I’ve suspected that I’m not particularly observant when it comes to noticing things. I can’t count the number of times someone has said, “Oh, man, he was so hot!” or, “No way, was that a goat with that man?” and I’m looking around in bewilderment. I’m not crazy about artwork. I can’t picture my friends’ faces with any sort of accuracy, though I obviously recognize them on sight. I use my eyes to navigate from one place to another and sometimes to read blogs.
I’m better at remembering last words. The one exception to the last looks thing was much more about last words, anyway. I remember what I said, but I don’t remember how he looked. After he died, as they were taking him away, someone asked me if I wanted to go back inside and see him. I told them no – I’d already said my goodbye. That seemed so much more important.
What I remember best are firsts. First impressions, first kisses, first hangovers. I guess because they have so much more immediate impact. Really, you never know it’s a last word until it really is the last word, and then you think back and maybe try to remember it, as though it will Mean Something. But life’s not a book. And isn’t your last impression based on a first something anyway?
So have the last word, the last laugh, or whatever. But don’t forget why the last look even mattered in the first place.
If you want a last word to leave you breathless, read fiction.
The Stand, Stephen King
Mort, Terry Pratchett
The Book Thief, Markus Zusak
