Last Time

We saw my Mom  and my husband’s father when my son was here.  We were thinking, this might be the last time, a thought I’ve had before.  As our parents got older, it became easier to think their time with us was short and we made the effort more often to visit.  This thought never came up regarding my husband, friends, children, or sisters.  After all, it’s hard to think this about younger people, a long way off from 80, what I believe to be the age to start entertaining the probability of not being around much longer.  I still treat life as a guarantee when I know, better than some, that it’s not.  It  would be depressing to dwell on this all the time, but I should remember it when it comes to relationships with those I love.  Not the start of each encounter, or the middle, but it’s the ending that matters.  Hugs, kisses, and words of love at every leaving, at every good night, and more importantly, making sure nothing is left behind to forgive.  None of these happened the last time I saw my husband, so I won’t mess up another leaving, last time or not!


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