The Last Time

The Last Time

When I was younger, I imagined retirement would be calm, steady, free of major change. But even now, life is full of transitions. And with each new beginning, something else quietly ends.

Big Life Changes

Some endings feel exciting: The last day of work before a new job. The final box packed before moving to a new home. Even though something ends, we’re focused on the promise of what comes next.

I remember how we looked forward to moving into our first home. But 50+ years later, we still sometimes miss our apartment, a grand, spacious place built in the early 1900s. We spent two years restoring it, and it had a charm none of our later homes quite matched.

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When I retired, I missed the daily contact with friends and colleagues. We stayed in touch, but it wasn’t the same as chatting in the hallway or grabbing lunch on a whim.

Five years ago, we packed up our household and moved to Southwest Florida. We had lived in the Chicago area for 50 years. We loved Chicago, but as we aged, we knew we needed the security a Continuing Care community could provide. And we weren’t eager to brave Midwestern winters into our 80s and 90s. Still, I miss many things, including the friendships, the blossoms of spring, and the possibility of a white Christmas.

Joyous Lasts

Some “lasts” bring relief or even joy: The day you trade in a clunker for a new car. The final chemo treatment. The last day working under a difficult boss.

One of my closest friends developed non-Hodgkin lymphoma and had to spend several months in Seattle undergoing treatment. It was grueling, isolating, and emotionally draining. So when she finally returned home to Chicago, even though she still had a long recovery ahead, it felt like a victory parade. “The joy wasn’t just about being out of the hospital,” she told me. “It was about being alive and going home.”

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Another friend tells the story of a boss who constantly looked over everyone's shoulder and barked when things weren’t done his way. “He made everyone’s life miserable,” she said. Then one day, they announced he had died suddenly. “We were relieved,” she admitted. “I know it sounds awful, but I had to peek in the casket just to make sure it was real.”

The Lasts That Slip By

Some endings are so quiet, we don’t recognize them until long afterward. We might not realize the last time our child ran to hug us at the door. Or that our dog no longer brings the ball to play fetch. Or the final night our cat curls up beside us under the covers. You don’t realize they’re the last until the moment is long gone and you miss them. In some ways, it’s a kindness not to know.

The Lasts That Slam Into Us

Some endings slap you hard: sudden, stinging, and unforgettable. I spoke with my friend Scott two days before his minor back surgery. He was upbeat, looking forward to getting back on the golf course. We’d worked together on a committee, and I always appreciated his sweet demeanor, calmness, and ever-present smile. I wished him luck. Two days later, I read the notice of his death. It took my breath away.

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Another resident, full of energy, walked out one morning to shoot a few holes of golf. He collapsed while retrieving a ball and never came back. The whole community was stunned.

And one night, the phone rang after midnight. Caller ID showed it was my father. I braced myself; surely something had happened to my mother. Instead, he told me my 35-year-old brother-in-law had collapsed and died while playing basketball. I remember the silence that followed, stretching impossibly long.

The Small Losses

Even small things can feel like little goodbyes. My list includes:

• Starbucks decaf Sumatra

• My favorite spinning instructor retiring

• A charming gift shop that quietly closed

I didn’t buy much at the gift shop (probably one of the reasons it closed), but I loved to browse their beautiful tchotchkes. I bought a bisque bunny and some chicks that became beloved parts of our Easter décor for years.

Love, Grief, and Letting Go

We lost our beloved cat Casey in January. He had been part of our family for nearly 10 years — mellow, loving, and entertaining. In his final days, even with a serious illness, he still did some of the things he loved most — including curling up beside us one last time. I grieved, and I still do.

Buddhism teaches that attachment — the desire to hold on to impermanent things — is the root of suffering. I struggled with that idea. Isn’t grieving the loss of something you loved natural?

ChatGPT (yes, the Artificial Intelligence one) explained the difference between attachment and love.

Attachment clings and expects what we love to always be there. Love,

on the other hand, is generous and open-hearted: it wishes happiness

for the other, without trying to possess.

That distinction gave me some comfort.

The Last and Letting Go

We don’t always recognize the last time something happened. but it’s okay to miss something after it’s gone.

I try to let the sadness remind me of the joy those people, pets, places, even coffee,  brought into my life.

Maybe part of living well is loving fully…and letting go gently.

References

1. Dr. Ammara Khalid, On Love and Attachment – what’s the difference?. RIA Psychological Services

2. Sumant Sinha, When Something Good Ends, Medium, January 30, 2025