The Last Times

Monday was Labor Day, the official end to summer. We celebrated Dan's birthday. And we marked the five year anniversary of my mom's death. Today would have been my dad's 71st birthday.

Lots of changes and milestones in just a few days, which has made me a little introspective.

It's made me think of how I felt in the days following Mom's death. As we boxed up her things, I couldn't help but wonder how she would have lived differently if she had realized all the "last times."

When she celebrated July 4th for the last time five years ago, before she was hospitalized, did she know it would be her last? When she packed up her Christmas decorations in 2003, did she know she wouldn't make it to Christmas 2004? Did she know I would be unpacking them in 2004 in my own home in Missouri?

Of course she didn't know. Neither do we. But do we live like it could be our last?

Monday could have been the last Labor Day you - or I - ever experience. The end to the last summer of our lives. What if there were no more backyard barbecues, no more days spent lazing by the pool, no more chances to feel the blazing summer sun on your face? Would you say goodbye to this last summer happily, knowing you ate your fill at the barbecue and floated happily in the pool and felt the heat warm you from the outside in? Did you get enough?

And if you can't say goodbye to this summer with some sort of satisfaction in your heart, why not?

Get out there, while the cicadas are still buzzing and the grass is still long enough to feel cool to your bare feet. Run in the sprinkler. Soak it up. You still have time.

If you're reading this, you still have TIME.