As my son gets older, this is something I think about weekly, if not daily:

When is the last time you'll do anything in life?

As my so gets older, this is something I think about weekly, if not daily.

A THREAD (1/8)

One night several years ago, I sat in bed with my son and read him some pages out of Harry Potter. (2/8)

I did not know it would be the last time I read to him before bed.

Likewise, I remember carrying him up the stairs on my shoulders at night. It was a thing he looked forward to, a nighttime ritual.

One night, it was the last time. (3/8)

I remember putting him to bed, tucking him in. Like everything, it ended quietly as he got older, something that once was regular and expected, but became too awkward after a certain age.

Now I just give him a hug, tell him I love him and not to be up too late. Teenagers. (4/8)

I remember the last time I had to drive him to school. Or soccer practice. Or to a friend's. (5/8)

Every life is full of beginnings and endings, and I suppose it's a good thing we never know when the end of anything will be, otherwise we'd be a bundle of raw nerves, anxiety and neurosis. (6/8)

You could never appreciate the last time if you knew it was coming, because instead of enjoying the moment, you'd be fixated on the fact that it will never happen again.

At least I would be. (7/8)

"The lasts" are times better left viewed in the rear view mirror of life, with fondness, wistfulness and appreciation. [END]