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Earlier this week, I noted that a dear friend was having a birthday. He turns 91 today, and I’ll call him this afternoon and we’ll fill the space until I’m home. I look forward to the conversation, and yet am also painfully aware that it might be the last time I talk to him on his birthday. As he gets older (we all get older), it’s a realization I can no longer ignore, and whatever ‘last time’ we shared becomes the last time ever.
There’s something obviously sad about that, and yet I wonder whether we wouldn’t be better off to treat every time as if it were the last.
Years ago, I attended college about an hour down the road from home. I lived on campus, but went home every chance I got. Most weekends, I was back mowing grass or working in the garden. For enough times that I can remember, I’d leave on Sunday afternoon and get twenty miles down the way before turning around. It would suddenly occur to me that I didn’t tell my daddy I loved him, or didn’t hug and kiss my mama. Maybe even then, I felt the pull of that ‘last time’.
Perhaps that’s the real wonder of living in the now – such that every time is the first and every time, the last – such that this (this between time) is all that matters.
Let us spend it lovingly.
the last time that we spoke
leaves were falling down
lines I could have written
to that day
but all I knew (of verses)
was the way you said my name
as sunlight split apart
in pools of grey
the last time that we spoke
was a promise
not to grieve
the taste of tears
a moment here (always)
no one more kiss to hold us
for days (for lives) between
lines I could have written
to that day
the last time that we spoke
of secrets yet unknown
so much I should have said
(I didn’t say)
about the way I miss you
when leaves are falling down
lines I could have written
to that day
. . .
Deep within my heart I really believe that there are really no “last times” between you and those you truly love because they live forever in your heart and in your memories. xo
Paul
You’re so right, Paul. I grieve for those who put love away, refusing the speak the names of those so close. We don’t miss what we don’t love. There’s a hole where love remembers, as it should.
Paul has said it so well…each time we share a moment of time to reach out and touch another’s life, letting them know how meaningful they are to us, and how blessed we are to know them to me, always the most important time of passing moments in our day! We should never be afraid to tell someone we love them or care about them even if you frame it that in is in a spiritual way, as God is love, whether family, or friends and even associates while always treating them the way you would like to be treated also. We all have one thing in common here in the flesh is we will have a last moment in this world, those who are left behind find themselves thinking if they forgot to do or say something, and those whose spirits pass on probably the same…lets all just leave lasting imprints on another’s life that brings a smile to their faces after we pass…so there will never be a sad thought or regret in anyway. Love one another as you would yourself, or even better as God loves you no matter what. Again you provide a certain beauty in what you share…one that will always stay alive when reading and embracing your words. Much love to you always my sister! Have a wonderful weekend Bobbie!
O, Wendell, I agree with you totally. I can’t imagine someone I love going to sleep even one night without knowing they are loved. I wouldn’t allow that to happen. One day, they’ll write on my headstone, ‘she still does’……… ❤
Heart memories never fade. ❤ to you Bobbie. Xx
Nor should we let them……. Always, love is as close as our next breath. ❤ and more to you Jane xoxoxo