It’s Always The Last Time
Sometimes we know when it will be the last time. Most often, we don’t.
Sometimes we wish it was the last time, but we can’t seem to stick to that agreement to let go.
The truth is, it’s always the last time.
We will never be exactly the same person we were just a few minutes ago. Hopefully, as we become more self aware, we are constantly evolving to be better people.
My sister and I grew up with a different father. Same man. Different parenting skills.
I always teased her and said that I trained him. In some ways, I suppose I did. He had to give up thinking he could make sure everything was how he wanted it to be for me, because I was always arguing for freedom.
But did I know the last time I saw my sister would be the last time? Not in a billion years would I have thought so.
However, as I write this, Del and I are doing something for the last time, and we know we are doing it.
We’ll continue it a different way, but we’ll never sit at these tables, or walk these woods again with the same group of people gathering with us this week.
Because we know—we are celebrating every moment.
So what are we to do in life about the not knowing? Perhaps acknowledge that every moment is a last time.
Eckhart Tolle said, “Be here now.”
In the present. In your seat. Outside in the garden. Everywhere, all the time. Perhaps we would start a habit of taking pause breaks and look at what we are doing and really see it.
When one of my daughters was small, I did that one day.
Lying in the grass in Venice, California, I stared at her as she sat there, her two-year-old self, the sun shining behind her, and really paused. I thought how wonderful it was that I got to share that moment with her beautiful being and took a mental picture of her. Really took it. I can still see it as if was happening now.
What would we notice if we paused and looked at the moment as if it were the last one?
Would we waste as much time worrying, or wondering what was coming next if we appreciated what we had in that moment?
One day, many years ago, as Del’s mom was leaving our home, she turned and looked at me. Really looked. As I returned that look, I knew she was telling me something.
A few minutes later, she had fallen, and that was the beginning of the end. I still see and feel that look. Because we both took the time to be completely present, I felt her goodbye.
Time flows, we change, the world changes, and nothing stays the same.
Every moment is the last moment. But when we find ourselves in one that feels especially important, perhaps pausing longer would be wise.
There are many sides to last moments. The last time we do something can be joyous and it can be sad. It can be freeing or binding. Our choice.
Perhaps we could learn to ride time the way birds ride the wind. Going with the flow, dipping and gliding and using it to their advantage.
Life continues.
We will see loved ones again, but it will be different, and that can be a joyful thought if we can let go of how we wish it was, and let it be how it is.
In the meantime, let’s pause. Right now.
Notice.
And be grateful for what you see, feel, hear, taste, understand, know, and experience in this moment.
It’s gone now, but another takes its place, and that is the ongoing, ever-expanding glory of life.
That is something to celebrate.
BECA LEWIS coaches, teaches, writes blogs and books, plays with art, and is addicted to reading. She lives in Ohio with her husband and has kids and grandkids scattered across the country.
