Thursday
Jun032010
The Last Time
Thursday, June 3, 2010 at 04:09PM
We celebrate and take photos of the remarkable firsts in a lifetime: first smile, first steps, first day of school, first love... but what about the lasts? The last day of a certain decade, the last child leaving home, the last visit to your childhood home before it sold.
Writing this feels irreverent. I get a strong sense that we're supposed to hide these "lasts" away from the world. We're supposed to remember someone or ourselves as we used to be, not as the declining physical self that has had many of its lasts. To take a photo of a dying person or beloved pet seems morbid, but aren't our lasts as meaningful as our firsts? It feels dishonest to ignore the other bookend, the mirror marker of all those firsts. Loss, death, departure -- these have as much to do with life as do joy, celebration, growth.
This is on my mind because our 16-year-old dog is dying. There's no determined date or cause of death, he's not sick; it's just that he's wonderfully old and has lived a good life. Isn't that how all of us would love to die? His body is slowed, he's eating less, sleeping more, and withdrawing from this world. After a bout of old dog vestibular disease in November, he walks with a pronounced lean and tilted head, which just makes him look even sweeter and more fragile.
It breaks my heart to watch our best doggie friend fade, knowing there's nothing I can do to keep him here longer than he's meant to stay. A smart woman I know once said that loving an old dog is a great way to learn how to love with your heart wide open, vulnerable and present. I feel what she means now.
Maybe we downplay our "lasts" because we usually don't know that we're doing something for the last time until later, after the loss. We can define our firsts looking forward, but the lasts must be seen in hindsight. The last time we saw a loved one, the last cuddle with our old dog, the last time we swam in the ocean. Maybe it's enough that we live these things as fully as we can in that moment. Even if a certain "last" is less than it might have been if you'd known it was the last, we do our best to just be there.
Writing this feels irreverent. I get a strong sense that we're supposed to hide these "lasts" away from the world. We're supposed to remember someone or ourselves as we used to be, not as the declining physical self that has had many of its lasts. To take a photo of a dying person or beloved pet seems morbid, but aren't our lasts as meaningful as our firsts? It feels dishonest to ignore the other bookend, the mirror marker of all those firsts. Loss, death, departure -- these have as much to do with life as do joy, celebration, growth.
This is on my mind because our 16-year-old dog is dying. There's no determined date or cause of death, he's not sick; it's just that he's wonderfully old and has lived a good life. Isn't that how all of us would love to die? His body is slowed, he's eating less, sleeping more, and withdrawing from this world. After a bout of old dog vestibular disease in November, he walks with a pronounced lean and tilted head, which just makes him look even sweeter and more fragile.
It breaks my heart to watch our best doggie friend fade, knowing there's nothing I can do to keep him here longer than he's meant to stay. A smart woman I know once said that loving an old dog is a great way to learn how to love with your heart wide open, vulnerable and present. I feel what she means now.
Maybe we downplay our "lasts" because we usually don't know that we're doing something for the last time until later, after the loss. We can define our firsts looking forward, but the lasts must be seen in hindsight. The last time we saw a loved one, the last cuddle with our old dog, the last time we swam in the ocean. Maybe it's enough that we live these things as fully as we can in that moment. Even if a certain "last" is less than it might have been if you'd known it was the last, we do our best to just be there.
Reader Comments (1)
That's it, at least for me, JGL- to be present fully. xoxox Beauty xo S