Eric Dane’s final words to daughters revealed after actor’s death

Actor Eric Dane shared his final words to his daughters, which were filmed months in advance and released by Netflix on Friday, one day after he died in Los Angeles after a battle with ALS.

The nearly six-minute video was posted to the streaming service’s X account. It shows Dane in a wheelchair, speaking directly to the camera, as he addresses his two daughters, Billie and Georgia.

“Billie, Georgia. These words are for you. I tried. I stumbled sometimes, but I tried,” he said.

He went on to share four things he learned from living with ALS, a disease that attacks nerve cells in the brain and spinal cord, and gets worse over time, eventually resulting in death.

“First, live now. Right now, in the present. It’s hard, but I learned to do that,” he said, going on to share that he spent years “lost” in his head, “wallowing and worrying in self-pity, shame, and doubt.”

The second thing he shared with his daughters is to fall in love — not necessarily with another person, “although I do recommend that as well” — but with something they’re passionate about.

“Find your passion, your joy, the thing that makes you want to get up in the morning. Drive you through the entire day,” he said, adding that acting was that thing for him.

The third point he shared was to choose friends wisely.

“Find your people and allow them to find you,” he said. “And then give yourselves to them. The best of them will give back to you. No judgement, no conditions. No questions asked.”

His final point to his daughters was to fight.

“When you face challenges, health or otherwise, fight, never give up, fight until your last breath,” he said.

Dane was best known for his roles on “Grey’s Anatomy” and “Euphoria.” His final words were filmed in November 2025 and are available as part of a longer documentary about his life, “Famous Last Words,” which is available on Netflix.

You can read the full transcript below:

Full transcript:

Billie, Georgia. These words are for you. I tried. I stumbled sometimes, but I tried.

Overall we had we had a blast, didn’t we?

I remember all the times we spent at the beach, the two of you, me, and Mom, in Malibu, Santa Monica, Hawaii, Mexico. I see you now playing in the ocean for hours. My water babies. Those days, pun intended, were heaven.

I want to tell you four things I’ve learned from this disease, and I hope you won’t just listen to me. I hope you’ll hear me.

First, live now. Right now, in the present. It’s hard, but I learnws to do that. For years I would wander off mentally, lost in my head for long chunks of time, wallowing and worrying in self pity, shame, and doubt. I replayed decisions, second- guessed myself. ‘I should have done this, I never should have done that.’ No more. And of pure survival, I am forced to stay in the present. But I don’t want to be anywhere else. The past contains the regrets. The future remains unknown. So you have to live now. The present is all you have. Treasure it, cherish every moment.

Second, fall in love. Not necessarily with a person, although I do recommend that as well. But fall in love with something. Find your passion, your joy, by the thing that makes you want to get up in the morning. Drive you through the entire day. I fell in love for the first time when I was about your age. I fell in love with acting. That love eventually got me through my darkest hour. My darkest days. My darkest year. I still love my work. I still look forward to it. I still want to get in front of a camera and play my part. My work doesn’t define me but it excites me. Find something some that excites. Find your path, your purpose, your dream. Then go for it. Really go for it.

Third, choose your friends wisely. Find your people and allow them to find you. And then give yourselves to them. The best of them will get back to you. No judgement, no conditions. No questions asked.

I’m so thankful for my very close family and friends. Every single one has stepped up. I can’t do the little things that I used to do. I can’t drive around town, go to the gym, get coffee, hang out. I’m learning to embrace alternatives. My friends come to me, we eat together, watch a game, listen to music. They don’t do anything special. They just show up. That’s a big one. Just show up. And love your friends with everything you have. Hang on them. They will entertain you, guide you, help you, support you, and some will save you.

Finally, fight with every ounce of your being and with dignity. When you face challenges, health or otherwise, fight, never give up, fight until your last breath. This disease is slowly taking my body, but I will never take my spirit. The two of you are different people. But you’re both strong and resilient. You inherit resiliency from me. That’s my superpower. You knock me down, I bounce right up, and I keep coming back. I get up again, and again, and again. Mark says I’m like a cat. Except a cat has nine lives, and I’m on number 15, easily. So, when something unexpected hits you, and it will, because that’s life, fight and face it with honesty, integrity, and grace, even if it feels or seems insurmountable. I hope I’m demonstrating that you can face anything. You can face the end of your days. You can face hell with dignity. Fight, girls, and hold your heads on. Billie, and Georgia, you are my heart, you are my everything. Good night. I love you. Those are my last words.