There’s A Last Time For Everything

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There’s A Last Time For Everything

September 30, 2008

Imagine spending a day with someone you truly care about – someone you enjoy being around, where the hours seem to melt by effortlessly.

Now imagine that day existing in a timeless state – a bubble of time made just for you – separate from the cares of the rest of the world.

Perhaps you’re at your favorite restaurant, talking and enjoying each other’s company late into the night…

Perhaps you’re outside, walking together in the park, playing games in the sun…

Or perhaps you’re together on a great adventure into uncharted territory, just like old times.

At this point, God (or whoever you may believe in) descends on the two of you like a soft breeze and whispers into your ear:

“This time the two of you have right now – this day, this very moment – will last as long as you choose. No one else but you will notice the infinity. As everyone else around you calmly waits for a future that never comes, you will enjoy this day until you choose to end it.

“But when you do choose,” God continues, “Know this will be the last time you two will ever have. Forever.”

How would this revelation change your day? What would you do differently?

Obviously in life, we seldom get such divine warnings. When someone’s last day on earth is finally here, we’re never the wiser. We keep plodding along like we always have, saying the same things we always have, acting out the same scripts we always have – asleep in some kind of mental fog.

Then you blink – it happens just like that – someone you loved is gone.

And it is at that point, you finally consider all the “woulda, shoulda, coulda”’s – and regret begins to mount.

Well, fortunately – very fortunately for me – it never happened like that for my grandpa and me.

On September 28, 2008, during a warm sunny Sunday afternoon – my grandpa died at 89 years old. But sad as it was, everything was OK for me – because I knew his last good days and last smiles were because of me, and I made them count.

It was only 45 days ago or so, he was up here to visit me in St. Louis in fine enough health. Then earlier this month, my mom called to tell me grandpa’s health had taken a sudden turn. He was having trouble breathing. No real reason, just started happening.

Ever since I was a little boy, as early as 5 years old running around on my grandparents’ farm, I remember times when grandpa pulled me aside to tell me things like “I won’t always be around, you know” and “I don’t have too much longer” – like he was preparing me for it or something.

A full twenty years after he said those things to “little Greg” he was still going strong. Of course I knew it had to happen someday, but he was always so healthy and could run circles around men his age (or younger!), it was always easy to imagine “someday” pushed so far into the future – far and faded enough to just kindof forget it completely.

But after hearing that call from mom, “someday” suddenly became “any day”

One day, after I got home from jury duty, I called my mom to update her on my schedule change for the week. She’d taken a trip out to see grandpa and he was right there nearby. Asked if I wanted to talk to him.

Of course I did.

I’d never heard him like this; for the first time ever in his life, he sounded old. It was work for him just to draw enough air out of each breath.

I tried so hard to talk normally, but I could feel my normally rock-solid composure cracking.

He said, “They sent me some new medicine this morning, so we’ll see if that helps. If it does, I hope to see you soon. If not… we had some good times.”

I managed to blurt out “Yeah….. we sure did” ………

That was enough. It was at that point I finally lost it, and cried – only a little, silently… to hold it back the best I could so he wouldn’t know. And tried to stop my voice from crackling and speak normally for the rest of the call.

Among my feeble attempts at a normal conversation, I told him not to say that, and that I’d try my best to see him soon… as soon as I was let go of being a juror on this trial. He said it wasn’t good to judge people and that he hoped the trial would be resolved without my judgment (it was – the judge declared a mistrial and the 12 of us all parted ways, absorbed back into society.)

Soon afterward, he got worse. Then a little better. Then worse than ever. I left St. Louis as soon as I could to go see him in the excellent hospital they have at St. John’s in Springfield, MO – a little more than 200 miles from my home. There were times he was in a lot of pain, but his mind was always clear. Eventually it was obvious he was dying. The only thing I could do was let him know I was there at his side to show I cared. I told him I loved him. He smiled his only smiles then because he saw I was there. Those were the nights for crying.

A couple days before he died when I came to see him again – privately when no one else was around – I said “See grandpa? I came to see you again just like I said I would.” He nodded and smiled faintly. His last words to me were “Yeah, son, you did what you said.”

Grandpa was never afraid of death. In fact, even in his last days he talked about it casually and just wanted to make sure everyone else was taken care of. He wasn’t a great novelist, a discoverer of science, or a shrewd businessman – I don’t even think he took anything past the 8th grade. He was just a great grandpa to a little boy growing up – a model of a “good guy” to a boy with no father. And that was enough for me.

I’ve been thinking about something a lot lately. It’s one of those obvious-sounding statements that no one thinks about much, but is nonetheless profound … something that becomes a little more meaningful with each consideration:

There’s a last time for everything.

There’s a last time you ever kiss your girlfriend or boyfriend…

There’s a last time you ever hug your mom…

There’s a last time you ever talk to a good friend…

And, there’s a last time you get to spend with someone you care so much about.

For me, for my grandpa, the last real quality time was the weekend of August 16th 2008.

It’s strange because… there was such a strong pull on me to do it – I was in such a rush to get him up here to spend some time with me because I was afraid something unexpected might happen and lose the chance forever. There were problems. It almost didn’t happen – but I MADE it happen.

How did I know it was now or never?

You can call it intuition or blind luck. Either way, most people miss their chance.

Feels a bit strange that only last month he was up here to visit me in good health – stayed a few days, saw some of his friends, showed him St Louis’ more attractive parts he hadn’t seen since the days of World War II, treated him to all my best things, went to the park on a sunny day, and watched old westerns late into the night. He even had a few of my beers He was so glad we got to do these things. He talked about his trip a lot afterward to anyone who’d listen.

The point is: I treated it like the last time – ever.

If only we were always so lucky to know when our various “last times” were, there’d seldom be any regret.

We all have our different beliefs as to what happens after death, if anything at all. But no matter what the belief, none of us really KNOW. I certainly don’t claim to know. It’s a bit of a mystery.

So when you’re with someone you care about, try the best you can to say the things you never say and do the things you always want to do – just like it’s the very last time. It’s not always possible, or even practical, but you’ve got to do your best.

For all you know, it might be the last time. For all we know, this may be all we get.

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