Someday each of us will breathe our final breath. When that time comes, our days here on earth will be done. None of us knows the setting in which our last breath will occur, who will be with us, or if we will have advance notice that time is near.
From time to time, I think of situations where a person knows they’re in their final minutes and has a chance to communicate their final thoughts. I think of passengers on United Airlines flight 93 on 9/11, knowing their plane was going to crash but having time to make a final phone call.
Sometimes I think about a setting where a person is trapped and oxygen is limited and running out and what it would be like to have a pencil and paper to write a final message.
At 7:20 on the morning of May 19, 1902 in a small town named Fraterville in northeast Tennessee, an explosion rocked a mine with 216 miners inside. The miners began their work week about an hour earlier. It’s believed the oil lamps they wore for lights ignited volatile gases that had accumulated the weekend before and caused the explosion.
As the day wore on, thousands of people came out to help try to rescue, many of whom were wives and family members of the miners, desperately trying to break into the mine from multiple locations. But there was no safe way to get to the miners and their loved ones inside in a timely manner.
The families’ worst fears materialized as the day went on. All 216 miners in the mine died. The families waited outside the entrance as in the next four days one body after another was taken from the mine and had to be identified.
Every adult male in the community died in the tragedy except three. Hundreds of women were widowed and roughly a thousand children were left fatherless. Some families lost as many as eight family members. One mother lost five of her sons and two of her son-in-laws. The youngest person to die in the mine was 12 years old.
Eighty-nine of the miners killed would be buried in the town’s Leach Cemetery. A monument stands in the graveyard today honoring those lost in the disaster.
I can’t imagine any family experiencing this horrendous event, let alone how life changing it was for so many. But that is not why I share this very unfortunate tragedy.
Somehow, 26 of the minors survived the explosion in a side passage. They knew their lives were about to come to an end as soon as their oxygen ran out and that they would not be able to be rescued. Ten of the 26 left something behind before they passed...messages to their loved ones.
They had several hours to write a final message to the world they were about to leave. Online you can see photos of the letters they wrote, including the words below.
A miner named Jacob Vowell wrote, “Ellen darling, good-bye for us both. Elbert said the Lord had saved him. We are all praying for air to support us, but it is getting so bad without any air.
“Ellen, I want you to live right and come to heaven. Raise the children the best you can. Oh how I wish to be with you, goodbye. Bury me and Elbert in the same grave by little Eddy, Goodbye.
“Ellen, goodbye Lily, goodbye Jemmie, goodbye Horace. We are together.
“It’s 25 minutes after two. There is a few of us alive yet. Jadee and Elbert. Oh God for one more breath. Ellen remember me as long as you live. Goodbye darling.”
J.L. Vowell wrote, “I have to leave you in bad condition. Now, dear wife, put your trust in the Lord to help you raise my little children...little Elbert said that he trusts in the Lord. Charlie Wilkes said that he is safe in Heaven if he should never see the outside again.
“If we should never get out we are not hurt, only perished. There are but a few of us here and I don’t know where the other men are. Elbert said for you to meet him in Heaven. Tell all the children to meet with us both there.”
John Herndon wrote, “My Darling Mother and Sister: I am going to Heaven. I want you all to meet me in Heaven. Tell all your friends to meet me there; and tell your friends that I have gone to heaven. Tell my friends not to worry about me as I am now in sight of heaven. Tell father to pay all I owe, and you stay there at home or at my house, and bury me at Pleasant Hill, if it suits you all. Bury me in black clothes. This is about 1:30 o’clock Monday. So good-bye dear father and mother and friends, goodbye all. Your boy and brother.”
Henry Beach wrote “Alice, do the best you can; I am going to rest. Good-bye dear.”
James A Brooks wrote “My dear wife and baby, I want you to go back home and take the baby there, so good-bye. I am going to Heaven so meet me there.”
An unnamed miner wrote “To Everybody: I have found the Lord. Do change your way of living. God be with you.”
Geo Hudson wrote to his wife, “If I don’t see you any more, bury me in the clothing I have. I want you to meet me in heaven. Good-bye. Do as you wish.”
And Powell Harmon wrote, “Dear Wife and Children: My time has come. I trust in Jesus. He will save. It is now ten minutes to 10 o.clock, Monday morning, and we are almost smothered. May God bless you and the children, and may we all meet in Heaven. Good-bye till we meet to part no more.
“To My Boys: Never work in coal mines. Henry, and you Condy, be good boys and stay with your mother and live for Jesus.”
There you have it...final words expressed just hours before death by men who went to work that morning expecting to be home in time for dinner. It is interesting what these men over 121 years ago focused on in their final breaths.
Let me hand you now a paper and pencil and give you an hour to impromptu write your last message to the world. What would you write? To whom would you write it to? I somehow think that in our final words, the world would learn about what was important to each of us.
I share this with you because if you do this exercise at a time you are not breathing you final breaths, it might help you focus on what is truly important to you while you have many breaths left. It might change the way you choose to live today, tomorrow, and the days you have been given ahead.
My challenge to you is to live your life consistent with what your final message to the world would say. You have one hour. On your mark, get ready, go!
Try this exercise and respond accordingly. Your final breath may be closer than you think.
Just a thought...
Rick Kraft is a motivational speaker, a syndicated columnist, a published author, and an attorney. To submit comments, contributions, or ideas, e-mail to rkraft@kraftlawfirm.orgmailto:thekraftlawfirm@aol.com or write to P.O. Box 850, Roswell, New Mexico, 88202 - 0850.
