When You Didn’t Know It Was the Last Time

I remember something that my son said one year on vacation. We were out walking, and he turned to me and asked, “Did you know that the last time you held me would be the last time?” I just stood there with a big lump forming in my throat. I even thought about picking him up right then, but he was much bigger than me. The fact was that I couldn’t remember the last time I held him because I didn’t know it would be the final time I’d pull him up off the floor into my arms. He was growing and moving along in life. Holding just naturally transitioned to other expressions of care and affection. Time goes by so fast—kids grow; mama’s arms get smaller; and life never stops. We’re always moving from stage to stage, living daily moments so fast that we never stop to think about the last times. His question made me reflect then, and I still think about it now. I think of other moments that I never knew were ending.

• The last time my mom would say my name as we walked the Alzheimer’s journey
• The tearful kiss left on my grandma’s cheek in the hospital just before she died
• The last goodbye at our front door with a little girl we loved dearly
• The final time we’d all be together for Christmas dinner

In those moments, I didn’t know it was the last time. And I wonder - What would I have done differently if I had known? What would I have said? Would I have ever been able to let go? I probably would have wanted to freeze time forever. Every day, we live moments that are important to us. Ecclesiastes 3 talks about all the different seasons in our life. I love verse 1– “There is a time for everything, and a season for every activity under the heavens.” Our time is made up of ALL our moments.

Moments make our life—the good moments, the hard moments, the joy moments, the pain moments. We NEVER know when it may be the last time for anything, really. The best thing we can do is to keep living on purpose, with love and intentionality. And that affects the way I love my family, offer forgiveness, refuse to hold onto bitterness, and embrace whatever life brings my way. I don’t want to lose any seconds or regret what I didn’t do.

One day, I had my little boy up in my arms, and then I put him down on the floor and never picked him up again. It’s okay that I never realized that was happening because I likely would have tried to hold on forever. On October 28, 2020, my mom looked at me and said my name for the last time—the final time she spoke to me like she had my whole life and knew who I was. If I had known, I would have never left her side. I would have begged her to call out again. Every day, our moments change. Don’t wish them away. Don’t hold onto them too tightly. Make them matter because each moment is a gift. First and lasts. Beginnings and ends. And everything in between. Gather them into precious places and impress them onto your heart. Wrap your arms around them and pull them close. If it is the last time, you want to ensure you lived that moment well.