This morning we had a last time in our house. It looked like this:
That looks pretty happy doesn’t it? And it is. It’s the last time G and our son will have their morning drive for coffee and a bagel and school drop-off. They love these mornings together that began many moons ago over band practice, or soccer practice, or leadership group, or some such thing that needed to happen earlier than it was reasonable to bus. They continued, usually on Tuesday mornings…well, just because. I watched them leave this morning after whispering to G, “It’s the last time – notice”.
Because so many times I have realized that there was a last time and I didn’t even know it. Like this:
How many times did our first baby snooze in this seat? With her soosie and her blankie tucked up against her cheek just so? When I set her there, knowing just what she needed to settle into slumber, so sure of what she needed to be safe and happy – when I set her there the last time…I didn’t know. I look at that picture now and wonder how it all sped by so fast. This morning she drove away to work, the world before her, with new challenges and with such independence.
As our last baby approaches his high school graduation it has made me think about life and the seasons of change – and how much I need to process the “lasts”. I can picture with absolute clarity the last time I saw my father standing on his own, outside, where I’d taken him in his wheelchair for a walk through the tulips. I knew it would likely be our last outing so I watched and etched it on my heart to call it out whenever I want. To see him again at his full height, ill, but still himself. But the last time I heard his voice? That’s a last I didn’t know and didn’t mark. I’m not quite sure when I last heard him talk or what he said, and I wish I’d known to capture it.
It’s like the last bedtime story. Oh how many bedtime stories were read in this house! I read to our kids long after they were well able to read to themselves. We read long chapter books, sometimes them reading out loud to me as we lay entwined, lost in the stories. What was the last story? When did bedtime change and I become irrelevant to it? Whenever the last bedtime story was, I didn’t know it. I missed marking it and it slipped away on the whisper of time.
The last time I lifted a squeaky clean, freshly bathed body from the tub and into my towel draped arms? Oh, so very, very long ago. I recall clearly sitting on the stairs in our old house, our son happily wrapped in a towel on my lap. I smelled his clean scent, drinking in the curly damp hair and happy sounds and acknowledged that he was my last baby and that these times of baby shampoo smell and kissable pudgy feet were limited. So I noticed. That wasn’t exactly the last time I’m sure, but I engraved it in my memory to call out now and then.
So many last times: the last time I saw one of my children running on the playground after school; the last time I saw my father standing on the dock at the lake; the last time I had a two – or even a three – in my age; the last time I stood in my childhood home; the last time I cuddled a nightmare perturbed little form in my bed; the last time my husband kissed me before we were three and then four…
Then there was this good friend that has marked my leaving and returning to our home for the last eleven years. She has stood sentinel over this place for over forty. And I saw her for the last time last week and I didn’t know it when I drove away. I returned to find her gone, and left only in the sweet places of my soul. I’m glad I paid attention and appreciated her:
Life is filled with wonderful moments of passage. Change is inevitable. To everything there is a season. I have been blessed with so many wonderful, tender, intimate, magnificent memories. I have learned that marking the lasts and holding them close for a moment before releasing them to their rightful place in time helps me feel them in their fullness.
So, don’t forget to notice. What last times have you engraved on your heart?
M
Beautifully said.
Yesterday, at a doctor’s appointment, he confirmed my age. I corrected him that I was still one month away from that number! Then I asked him how it got to be that number. His answer, “It just kinda creeps up on you.” So, that’s a medical explanation!
I love it! It does indeed “just kinda creep up”. And it’s funny that it isn’t my age that stuns me so much as my kids. When I imagine that in ten months my daughter will be the same age I was when I got married…well. Holy Hannah.
I love this Mary. Thank you for the sweet words to remind us to notice.
You’re welcome Kat. I think feeling, even the sweet but sad passages, is so important. It makes life so much richer.
Beautiful, heartfelt post and you are right. So many times the *last time* occurs and slips past us before we have time to take notice. This is a great reminder to try and do so.
Love both the pictures in this post. While you may be witnessing the *last morning drive to school* for your son and his Dad, know that you will also be witnessing many *first times* for your son as he begins this new phase of his life
Congratulations to him on his completion of high school!
Paula, you are so right. I always think of the phrase, “when God closes a door He opens a window”. Even tough this is not an opportunity lost, or a wish not granted, these stages strike me similarly. We shut a door behind and a window, or another door, waits. Sometimes, often, something even better waits. And thank you – we are very proud of his accomplishments.
Another amazing story.
After I read this I stopped and thought back over many years and yes there were many “last times” – some happy and some sad
When you watch your children mature and then decide to set out on their own, that “last time”living at home is sad for the parents but also happy that they are able to make their way in the world.
I really meant to add – who would every know that 21 years later I am living in the most beautiful granny flat with my youngest sibling Mary and have lots of TLC
So true – the lasts make way for the firsts when its children who are moving through stages.
Wow, Mary. This is beautiful. Thank you for sharing. We’re approaching some significant lasts here too.
The one that stays with me, though, is a long-ago last. It was St. Patrick’s Day, March 17. The youngest and I had spray-dyed our hair green. We were sitting in chairs at the side of the hall in the locked ward of the nursing home with my father. I was singing to him: “When Irish eyes are smiling…” And he was — inexplicably — singing/humming along too.
Irish magic.
It lasts still. : )
I love that memory – thank you for sharing. There is no telling what Irish magic can do
That was beautiful. I’m so glad you commented on my blog, so that I found yours. I’ll be back.
And I’m glad you found me! Thanks for reading and see you soon.
Hi Mary! I’ve only just discovered your blog today after Tina introduced us on Twitter! I love this post. It was a year or so ago that I realised I’d done so many things for the last time. It’s partly why I started my own blog a month ago – but aside from that I’ve learned to slow down, to take notice and just ‘be’ with the kids. Thank you for this beautiful reminder.
I’m so glad you discovered me via Tina. And I’m glad I was able to remind you to attend to the ‘lasts’. I am looking forward to reading your blog too. Thanks for reading.
This is beautiful, and a wonderful reminder to take note of all those special ‘last’ moments. The only problem, for me anyway, is that I never actually no when that last moment is…you don’t realize it until it is gone. Your post has made me filter through the files in my brain to come up with those last moments when my now almost 6-year-old ate in a high-chair, or crawled; or, when my now three-year-old was sleeping in his crib, or no longer needed a sippy cup. That makes me sad that those memories aren’t with me. I am always so greedy for the next step, the next independent step my children are going to take – when will my three year old finally get out of pull-ups, when will my daughter finally learn how to tie her shoes on her own – that I forget to take note of the present. Thank you for making me realize that EVERY step is important!
PS I found your link on the Momoir Blog.
Hi Kim,
I’m so glad you found my blog! My kids are so much older that remembering the “last moments” has become clearer to me with time. When they were smaller I also saw things more through increasing their independence and rejoicing in the ‘firsts”. I also remember not being able to conceptualize how quickly I would be looking back at the times that seemed to be going so slowly when they were in stages of demanding a lot of attention, support and supervision. Did you read my post about the Boy in The Kitchen? That was the day of my son’s prom and it was along a similar line. I hope you will come back and read again. I will check out your blog for sure!