A friend recently told me, “You always focus on the firsts of things, but you never realize when something happens for the last time.”
It was an interesting concept to ponder. In some ways, I’m glad I don’t realize something is for the last time. I don’t want to feel that punch to the heart when I realize I have rocked my baby to sleep for the last time or that I have breastfed for the last time.
On the other hand, I think it’s important to remember last times when they are evident. Acknowledging these moments helps us appreciate the experiences all the more.
I remember the last day of high school and the exhilarating freedom I felt; I remember the last time I saw my mother and the wrenching heartache in my soul; I remember the last time I kissed my husband as he left for a monthslong sojourn out West.
Sometimes the last-time moments help us appreciate what we have been blessed to have.
I recently had three employees leave The Sentinel because their department was eliminated. It was a painful thing to watch, and in some ways I think I was more affected than they were. I wanted so much to keep things the way they were — us working nights together, laughing at odd news stories, sharing life experiences.
Now they are gone and I miss them terribly, but by missing them, I know how special it was to have them in my life in the first place.
As a new mother, I have been focusing a lot on firsts. Everyone is obsessed with a baby’s progress: “How old is he?” “Is he sitting up yet?” “Is he crawling?” “Any teeth yet?”
But as we constantly look forward, I like to take a little time to look back at the journey.
Focusing on lasts doesn’t have to be sad or depressing, and I think it’s something we shouldn’t fear. I think many of us could benefit on a little reflection and wonder in the joy of life’s long arc — the trials and tribulations it took to where we are today.
And without ends, there would be no beginnings. My friendships with my co-workers is just beginning, even though my working relationship has ended. My baby no longer needs my help to sit, but he’s so close to crawling for the first time.
It comes full circle, and it shouldn’t be any other way.
It was an interesting concept to ponder. In some ways, I’m glad I don’t realize something is for the last time. I don’t want to feel that punch to the heart when I realize I have rocked my baby to sleep for the last time or that I have breastfed for the last time.
On the other hand, I think it’s important to remember last times when they are evident. Acknowledging these moments helps us appreciate the experiences all the more.
I remember the last day of high school and the exhilarating freedom I felt; I remember the last time I saw my mother and the wrenching heartache in my soul; I remember the last time I kissed my husband as he left for a monthslong sojourn out West.
Sometimes the last-time moments help us appreciate what we have been blessed to have.
I recently had three employees leave The Sentinel because their department was eliminated. It was a painful thing to watch, and in some ways I think I was more affected than they were. I wanted so much to keep things the way they were — us working nights together, laughing at odd news stories, sharing life experiences.
Now they are gone and I miss them terribly, but by missing them, I know how special it was to have them in my life in the first place.
As a new mother, I have been focusing a lot on firsts. Everyone is obsessed with a baby’s progress: “How old is he?” “Is he sitting up yet?” “Is he crawling?” “Any teeth yet?”
But as we constantly look forward, I like to take a little time to look back at the journey.
Focusing on lasts doesn’t have to be sad or depressing, and I think it’s something we shouldn’t fear. I think many of us could benefit on a little reflection and wonder in the joy of life’s long arc — the trials and tribulations it took to where we are today.
And without ends, there would be no beginnings. My friendships with my co-workers is just beginning, even though my working relationship has ended. My baby no longer needs my help to sit, but he’s so close to crawling for the first time.
It comes full circle, and it shouldn’t be any other way.
Tears! I really miss working with you, my friend. Even though we had months to prepare, I don't think I let the idea of leaving really hit me until after it was over. I love you!
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