The Last Time


Here’s the last time (I think) that I’ll hold one of my sleeping babies on my lap. Harlan was cranky before we flew away on Wednesday, and I was holding and rocking him, and he fell asleep on my lap. I asked my mom to document the last time. With so many of my friends, we lament that we never know when it’s the last time one of our babies does something. Like, Porter says Harlan (not Harnin) now, and I didn’t note when he was able to make that change. On the other hand, I vividly remember the last time Gilbert dirtied a diaper. Life is gradual, until it isn’t.

These reflections are more poignant since my grandfather’s funeral and burial last week. I had been planning on seeing him and my brother this summer, so the “last time” hadn’t really entered into my head. The funeral was special, with my family spending some quality time together. Porter and Harlan were delightful little creatures, and we gave him a good sendoff. As I reflect, though, I can tell you that the food ordered for the post-funeral lunch brought back a slew of memories. It was Louden Square, and I didn’t even need to know that to tell from the taste.

The only other thing that occurs to me is the Rolling Stones song “The Last Time”–“I told you once and I told you twice, but you never listen to my advice; it could be the last time, I don’t know.” Some last times I’m looking forward to–the last diaper; the last time out; the last tantrum. But some things I’ll be sad to let go–the last kid sitting in a box; the last tooth lost; the last family vacation…I’m sure there are more…What were you sad to see go?


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