Firsts and lasts sometimes come or go with great notice. Like a birth – the last day of pregnancy becomes the first day of raising a child – and it is usually celebrated. Or a death – the last day of life becomes the first day of living without – and the life that has passed is celebrated, recalled and grieved for.
Sometimes firsts or lasts slip through with barely a murmer, or no notice at all.
Like sitting in church after YEARS of effort getting our family of 8 along there all clean and fresh and in underwear (there’s a story there) and then realising one day that neither Rod or I had to leave the service for ANY reason at ALL in several weeks. Suddenly they were all big enough to sit well, not need a walk out the back for a chat, a loo visit or even accompanying to Sunday School. They could do it! And we sat there together incredulous that we’d ‘made’ it. But a ‘last’ had taken place without us knowing it would be.
Perhaps more lasts happen silently than firsts do.
We dont know when the last time a child will need us to help them with a bad dream in the middle of the night will be. And we wont notice it passing without a prompt to do so.
Or the last time they run to us for a kiss when they’re hurt.
Funny – the things we grieve.
I got my photographer friend to take pictures of my hands holding our 6th baby’s hands to wash them – as every time I did that I felt sad that one day she wouldnt need me to do that anymore.
I’ve been thinking alot about firsts and lasts this week.
Next week is bringing a few of both for me.
The last party at school for our littlest.
And on the same day – the first I will go to as Grandma.
Firsts and lasts.
Sometimes big, sometimes small, sometimes bringing sadness, sometimes bringing celebration – but always, when noticed, bringing reflection.