Fifteen yrs ago – the Last Time –
They say that a person is not really gone until no one remembers them any longer; when someone leaves earth some part of them remains and their memory is left behind for their loved ones to hold on to. (Think Pixar’s Coco). I have worked hard to remember Jim and keep his memory alive so that part of him stays alive with me and my kids. I know it is tough because while we remember him, others who have come into our lives never really knew the man we love. It is constantly important to me to not only remember the good stuff because that makes him out to be somewhat of a godlike person, instead of a godly man who was trying desperately to practice godliness while humanly flawed.
When he died, I held on to Jim’s belongings in an effort to hang on to him. When Jim left, I studied pictures of him more than I ever looked at him in life. (& that is a lot!) Since Jim has been gone, I have found reasons to talk about him. I tell stories about him as I try to introduce him to others. I look for and find as many reasons as I can to remember Jim, so that part of him stays with me. I guess I feel that as long as I remember Jim he is still here even though I know he isn’t.
There is a last time for everything. Sometimes that is a good thing! A last mortgage or car payment. A last radiation treatment. A last final exam. A last day of work before retirement. But, when most things are over, good and bad, there is grief. I miss my kids living with me and family dinners and trips. I grieve that there are no more soccer games, no more jazz choir concerts and no more ministry trips. I miss the intellectual stimulation of teaching college and interacting with my PhD cohort. Even knowing that I will never live in certain places again and will never travel to certain places gives me pause and some level of sadness. But, the most difficult is that I have had my last hug, my last snuggle. my last kiss. my last vacation, my last disagreement with Jim, my life partner and best friend.
The saying “there’s a last time for everything” emphasizes the finite nature of experiences and moments in life. It’s a reminder that even seemingly ordinary events, like a first love or a childhood game, will eventually happen for the last time, often without us realizing it. This thought can evoke a sense of nostalgia, encourage appreciation for the present, and highlight the importance of cherishing significant moments before they become memories. I believe that the Bible calls us to savor life’s moments, challenges and people because we do not know when it will be over. The disciples had no idea that the Passover meal they shared with Jesus would be called the Last Supper. They didn’t understand what Jesus meant when He told them that the last would be first. They thought the seven things He said would be His last words and yet, thankfully, they weren’t!
The reality is that nothing in this life will last. Every year since 2010, especially, I wrestle with the idea of impermanence and how fleeting life can be. But the idea of living forever changes everything. There will be no more “lasts”, no endings, no death, no goodbyes. Martin Luther King said, “We must accept finite disappointment, but never infinite hope.” Stephen King said, in Shawshank Redemption, “Hope is a good thing, maybe the best of things, and no good thing ever dies.”
Though all (good) things must come to an end on this side of the grave, the best things will never die. I think the most amazing reality of all is that God loves what is impermanent – us – permanently. The love of God is extended to each of us and to all of creation. And additionally, because we are created in the image of God, the beauty of loving what is impermanent is embedded within us too, even as we feel the pain of loss and finality when we experience the fragility of life. Even though we all experience loss, endings, and the “last” of things, every ending is an opportunity for a new beginning. It serves as a reminder that eternity is one long new beginning! May it be so – aka Amen.
James William Mohler Nov. 8, 1955- Nov. 5, 2010. RIP here. See you soon.