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A Butterfly Moment: Remembering “Lasts”

I remember the firsts. The first smile. The first word. The first tooth. The first step. The first day of school. The first time riding a two wheeler. Those are what you are supposed to remember. And it’s easy to know when the firsts happen because they’ve never happened before. But what about the lasts. Will I know when it’s the last time they sit on my lap? Or the last time I read them a book? Will I remember the last time they ask for a song at bedtime or for me to lay with them until they fall asleep? Will I wake up and realize the last time one of them crawls in bed with us because he had a bad dream? Last week I think I had a last — Jen/A Butterfly Moment.

DFO: I remember the last words my 89-year-old, bed-ridden Godfather said to my mother, a brother and me: “I love you all very much.” I walked away because I knew he was going to die soon. And I wanted those to be the last words I heard him say. A good man whose life counted very much.

Question: Do you remember a “last”?

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About this blog

D.F. Oliveria is a columnist and blogger for The Spokesman-Review. Print Huckleberries is a past winner of the Herb Caen Memorial Column contest by the National Association of Newspaper Columnists. The Readership Institute of Northwestern University cited this blog as a good example of online community journalism.

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