I was a sucker for firsts – just like every other new mom. The first steps, the first words, the first time my boys, Michael and Sam, slept through the night. Sam, at 2 months old; Michael, at age 8. Sigh. Even their first caterpillar in a jar, oblivious to the coming trauma if it didn’t make it to butterfly adulthood.
But no one ever warns you to cherish the “lasts.” They sneak up on you like dust bunnies under the bed – quiet, unassuming, and suddenly they’re there, leaving you to wonder how long they’ve been accumulating.
Breastfeeding
Take breastfeeding, for instance. I didn’t even know that I was kind of a “hippie” mom who breastfed until my boys were each well past the age of two. I didn’t anticipate that there would be a last time. One day, it just… happened.
I realized that my younger son could now eat pizza and drink cow’s milk, but I hadn’t been ready to move on to a new chapter. A little voice in my head was thinking, “Let’s be done now.” But I shrugged it off. It wasn’t until later that I realized that there had been a last time. No fanfare, no grand farewell, just a quiet end to a significant time we spent together.
Snuggling
Snuggling was another thing I took for granted. My boys used to clamber onto my lap like little monkeys, especially after long car rides. I recall the last time Sam did this. We had stopped at a gas station, and he snuck out of the backseat, crawling into my lap. His head was a bit pungent from the long day, but I didn’t mind. I hugged him tight, savoring the warmth and weight of him. Little did I know it would be the last time. Now, at 28, he’s still great at hugs, but I need a stepstool just to reach his head.
There was a memorable moment at an airport with Sam. He was 18, and as we waited for our flight, he leaned into me for a snuggle as we sat at the gate. My heart swelled. Then, out of nowhere, a hot flash engulfed me like a solar flare. Sadly, I had to move away, fanning myself frantically. Talk about a mood killer. But hey, at least I got one last snuggle in before menopause turned me into a human furnace.
Rocking the Rollercoasters and Whitewater Rafting
But not all lasts are as nostalgic, and many of them have nothing to do with motherhood. Some are downright comical. My brother, sister, and I decided to relive our youth by hitting up Universal Studios. Picture three adults in their late 50s and early 60s, tearing through the park like kids on a sugar high.
We rode every roller coaster, screaming our heads off and laughing until we cried. At our age, we worried about adult diapers and Dramamine for the nausea. The young families must’ve thought we were nuts. And maybe we were. But who knows? That may very well have been our last hurrah on the coasters. If it was, it was a blast.
Then there’s the last white-water rafting trip with my family. I’d rafted a few times as my younger self and always managed to stay in the raft. This time, not so much. We hit a class three rapids, the raft flipped, and suddenly I was a human pinball bouncing off rocks in frigid water.
After my bruised and battered body made it to safety, I asked how cold the water was, and the guide smirked, “It’s the temperature of yesterday’s snow.” Fabulous. I think it’s safe to say that was my last rafting adventure.
Those Quiet Lasts
Some of the lasts that I’ve been thinking about lately are a bit more subtle. I never thought there would be a last time to go on a bike ride with my Dad. What about the last time I called a friend who moved far away, always thinking there would be a visit, but the visit never came?
I do remember the last time I walked through my childhood home after my parents had lived there for more than 50 years. But now I think about the last time I slept in my childhood bedroom, dreaming of the days when my record player – with its three speeds – was my most prized possession. When was the last time I belted out Carpenters songs in front of my mirror, lavender hairbrush in hand, like I was the actual Karen Carpenter?
The quietest last for me was the last time I stood in front of a classroom full of adorable third graders. That day, I felt like I had swallowed a golf ball as I walked out the door for the final time. It was a day like any other, yet profoundly different.
I expected a bit more pomp and circumstance for such a significant end, but life doesn’t always give you the closure you’re looking for. I mourn the loss of those kiddos. The last time I said “good-bye,” I pictured being invited to their high school graduation parties or bumping into them in the grocery store. They would tearfully express their gratitude for their year with me. I would beam and tell them stories about them I will never forget.
Savor the Lasts…
The thing about lasts is they often slip by unnoticed. We’re so focused on getting through the day, ticking off our to-do lists, that by the time we realize it’s the end, it’s already gone. And that’s okay. We can’t have a farewell tour for every ‘last.’ But we can try to savor the moments as they come, knowing they may never come again.
So, raise your glass to the lasts, whether they’re heartwarming, hilarious, or a mix of both. They remind us that life is fleeting, that every moment matters, and that sometimes, the most significant endings come without warning. And if we’re lucky, we get to laugh and cry about them later, reminiscing with the people who made those moments special.
And who knows? Maybe there are more firsts ahead of us than we think.
Let’s Have a Conversation:
I’m sure we’ve all had to say “good-bye” to someone we love, but what is the “last” you miss with them? For example, I miss my “Teeny” grandma, but I remember the last time she drove us in her giant 2-door Buick to the Milwaukee Zoo. It was scary and hilarious all mushed into one memory. I’ll have to write about that someday.
As we age, we sometimes feel we are SUPPOSED to have something become a “last.” What are you going to try to do forever?
On the flip side, what is something you are glad to have as a “last” in you life?
