This time will be the last time

Francis is up here, paying me a cheerful visit.


It took him an hour and 45 minutes to waddle into the room, and then another seven years to crawl up to the desk. I really wish I'd have paid attention, actually, to how he got up here, because usually I have to lift him. Now he is up here hissing down at Tallulah, who is barking up at him. They can't stand each other. It's like I have FOX News and MSNBC together, here.


In the meantime, Winston just strolled in and effortlessly leaped into the window. It was kind of sad, thinking of when Francis used to be able to do stuff like that. I wonder when the last time was that Francis could just leap up like a normal cat, before he got arthritis and all fat and old and such?

Do you ever think about stuff like that? The last time stuff happened?

Two summers ago, Marvin and I went back to Michigan because it was our 10-year wedding anniversary. We decided to spend the night at the bed-and-breakfast where we got married.


Here I am, on our 10-year anniversary, reenacting my wedding pose.

The real picture doesn't have a line through it; it's just the ding-dang scanner.

Anyway. So we went to my mother's house before we went to the bed and breakfast, because said B&B is in my hometown. My Uncle Jim dropped in, and we went in the back yard and sat, and then my Aunt Kathy came, and so did my Aunt Sue, and finally my stepfather came home from work. We were all just sitting around laughing and talking while my mother ran back and forth with 2937749235 items of food as she always does. Tallulah was there, too. She was just a puppy.

I remember my Uncle Jim laughing while Tallulah ran around my mother's back yard. I knew from the way he laughed that he thought my dog was cute, and I was proud of Talu.

I really didn't want to get up and go to our romantic dinner and evening, because I was having so much fun. But I think we had reservations, so we finally left.

That was the last time everything was normal with my family. The next time I saw my uncle, he was in the hospital with cancer. We all sat around and laughed again, but we all knew he was really sick. That day of our anniversary, July 18, 2008, was the last time everyone was healthy.

Am I the only one who thinks of stuff like that? The last time stuff happened? The last date you had with anyone else before you met your spouse, the last normal phone call you had with your best friend before you broke up with her, the last weekend to yourself you had before you had kids.

I was thinking about Francis the other night. He slept with us every single night without fail until the day we got Tallulah, and he's never slept with us since. Tallulah slept in a crate for her first year, so Francis could have kept on in the bed, but he was too mad. I think about that last night in February 2008, when poor Fran had his last night sleeping with people. Since then he sleeps alone on his angry chair.

Do you ever do this? Think of the last time something happened? Or am I just Sylvia Plath?

66 thoughts on “This time will be the last time

  1. Now I am sitting in the Sad Chair. I am sorry for all of you who have had sad, heartbreaking experiences of whatever kind, especially the loss kind. I can hardly stand to think this way anymore, I wouldn’t be able to function.


  2. Yes. Today was one of those days. I spent the day at the hospital with my friend. This morning, she was told her husband, also a dear friend, had a couple of days to live. Would this be the last time I saw him? Would this be the last day she held his hand? Would tomorrow?


  3. I keep thinking back to a week ago, in bed with my beautiful cat asleep by my feet the way she has done for 8 years. I got up and fed her, she ate her meat and wandered outside. Just the same as she has done for 8 years. Such a normal morning. And I hadn’t a clue that would be the last I ever saw of her.


  4. I remember the last time I saw my grandma. She was in the hospital very far gone from a stoke. She got very agitated, I think because she couldn’t communicate, and started to scream. Oh, it made me jump, and for a minute I didn’t know what to do. So I started to sing to her, hymns I knew she loved, and she slowly fell asleep. I cried all the way back to the car.
    Sometimes what you think is the last time really isn’t, though. Christmas 2008 we went to Shasta to visit my in-laws and stayed in a really cool rental house. There hadn’t been much snow up there yet that year, and I know it sounds corny, but I prayed for snow for Christmas. It ended up snowing a foot (on top of a foot from the day before) on Christmas Eve, and was the most beautiful sight you can imagine. It was a perfect day of playing in the snow and the kids enjoying their grandparents. Far beyond what I had asked for. I thought for sure it would be my last Christmas on earth because it was so perfect. So all last year I kept asking myself, “Is this the last time…?” Boy, did I breathe a sigh of relief on Dec. 26, 2009!
    Hubs and I have also wondered if we would know when it was the last time we had sex. After almost 28 years of marriage, we’re still pretty frisky, but I wonder if at some point we’ll look at each other and say, “Okay, one more time, but then that’s it… we just don’t have the energy for this anymore!” You must get to that point sometime, right? Like when the arthur-itis and bursitis just kick in too much?


  5. Just found you via The Nester….very pleased to find you. Had a belly laugh over your Greatest Fears Party.
    On topic, I often remember the last time I saw or spoke with someone before they died. Nice. But probably normal.
    Lately I think of the last time my son– from whom I am estranged–came home for a visit. He kept looking so intently into my eyes, someone who doesn’t do much eye contact, like he knew it was our last time together. In my heart, I hope we get restored some day, but I don’t think it will be soon enough to be here in the home he was raised in from 8-18. So, you’re not alone in morbid remembering of “last times”.


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