The Lasts

Every new moment we experience could be the Last of another.

A few nights ago, my father in law of thirty years passed away. Suddenly. I am deeply saddened by this loss as he was a wonderful man. I wrote about the conflicting feelings I’ve experienced when losing someone who had been a part of my family when I was married in Loss Discovered Within Loss and that struggle is the same as today.

We had some really amazing years together as a family but of course there would be occasional times of chaos; especially when it came to decisions we had made for our kids. (such as raising them vegetarian and choosing to not baptize them) My father in law would pull me aside quietly or call me up afterwards and say “Jenn, they raised their kids how they wanted to, you go ahead and raise yours as you want to. You’re doing a great job.” He was too quiet and kind to rock the family boat by vocalizing his shared views, but Paul let me know when he was on my side. I will always love him for that.

Less than an hour before he died, my son called his grandparents to tell them about the new car he had just bought. He was driving home from the dealership and thinking about stopping by their house to show it off but because my mother in law is recovering from surgery he chose to let her rest. After having a lovely conversation with them and making plans to bring his car by later in the week, he said “okay, see ya later!” and hung up.

Only minutes after saying goodbye, Paul was gone.

We don’t always get proper goodbyes or realize in the moment that this goodbye could be final. We don’t always tell people how much we love and appreciate them or how wonderful of a grandfather they’ve been in a typical everyday conversation. More often than not it’s the “okay, see ya later” and hang up the phone type. Those goodbyes are not the same.

This grief is similar to how I feel when I look back on my early years of motherhood. I grieve all of the Lasts that we did not know were going to be Lasts. I cannot remember when the last time was that I ever gave either of my babies a bottle, or spoon fed them. They would feel heavier each time I picked them up, but I can’t recall the last time I walked around with them on my hip, or had them bundled close to me in a baby sling. I don’t remember the day when I last caught them at the bottom of a playground slide, pushed them on a swing set, said ‘JUMP!’ as they plunged into my arms in the pool or when I last washed their little faces in that mom-scrubbing way that we do. I don’t remember what outfit I put them in before they began dressing themselves. I don’t know which day or even month it was when they transitioned from calling me ‘Mommy’ to ‘Mom’, but it happened. I missed savouring those Lasts.

I could go on to write more about how we just never know what life will bring us next and to cherish each moment, but I’ll spare you, Reader. We already know all of that. What I will say is that it’s normal to feel grief over the loss of the Lasts. When we face the death of someone we love, lose a job or are so busy parenting that we miss out on making the final moments really count, we grieve later. Sometimes amidst this grief we will beat ourselves up about all of the ‘should haves’ and ‘could haves’ but that isn’t healthy for our well-being. We don’t know what we don’t know, but we do know this: There is no going back in time but we can be more mindful of the present. Every new moment we experience could end up being be the Last of another. Try to make them count but know that it’s okay to grieve the ones we miss.

Photo by Wilbur Wong on Unsplash