Goodbyes have no sureties

They huddled behind a barricade, deep inside a dark West Virginia coal mine.
Trapped 260 feet below the surface after an explosion Jan. 2, the 13 miners -- only one of whom survived -- knew that carbon monoxide would eventually lull them into an everlasting sleep.
Yet, several of them scribbled messages to loved ones and friends. The words were their farewell.
Martin Toler Jr., one of the 12 who died, wrote: "Tell all -- I [will] see them on the other side. ... It wasn't bad. I just went to sleep. ... I love you."
On Jan. 15, the miners were memorialized by more than 2,000 people during a service in the chapel of West Virginia Wesleyan College, a few miles from the mine.
Sept. 11 memories
Flash back more than four years when nearly 3,000 people died in airplane crashes and targeted buildings. As they faced death on Sept. 11, 2001, many shared their last words by cell phone or text messaging with loved ones.
A year after that infamous date, Bob Harrington of Massachusetts recalled on CNN his phone conversation with his daughter Melissa, who was trapped in the World Trade Center.
"In one instance, it's really good that I talked to her," he said, "because I can always remember us exchanging 'I love you' -- 'I love you, Dad."'
Fleeting moments that are frozen in time.
But not all tragedies make headlines. Most of us can recall when a loved one or friend died, and we thought: If only I could have said a few words, embraced or held his or her hand one last time.
Our lives are buffeted by regrets. There's even biblical precedent for them.
When Jesus heard that his friend Lazarus was extremely ill, he waited two days before traveling to Bethany to be with him. But by then it was too late. Lazarus had died, and as the Gospel of John says, Jesus wept.
Were the tears partly his regret for waiting too long before coming to the aid of his dying friend? Or was he overcome by the sight of Lazarus' grief-stricken family and friends?
The fact is, no one is immune from regrets. So why are we so slow to respond to another when death is near?
Is it because we deny the inevitable and hope for the extraordinary? Like the magical ring in "The Lord of the Rings," does medical technology with its endless promises of extended life become a corrupting hope to stave off death?
Grasping for a medical miracle, we're not always ready to admit death is at hand. And if a loved one is dying, we're often reluctant to express our farewells and final words lest we appear morbid or uncaring.
What to do
The lesson of West Virginia, as well as of 9/11, is that we can't assume we'll have one last chance to say good-bye. Sudden death usually steals that chance. But at other times, we can seize the moment:
UTell a dying loved one or friend your feelings for him or her. If you can't be there, write a letter expressing your love and recalling the good about the person's life.
UIf you are with someone who's dying, invite him or her to share remembrances and encourage other family members and friends to do the same.
UListen and allow the dying person to express his or her needs or fears.
UPray with the person, if he or she is willing. The spirit of God is a comforting presence and certain hope.
UAnd if you are near death, those same lessons apply to you as you interact with family and friends.
No doubt those devastated by the coal-mining and 9/11 tragedies will look at death differently.
Each family member and friend will recall, with some degree of regret, the last time he or she spoke with one or more of the miners or 9/11 victims.
And each will probably resolve to face death, whether one's own or another's, as openly and forthrightly as possible.
Sometimes it takes the darkness of loss to finally see the light.
Knight Ridder Newspapers