No matter what kind relationship you have with someone, there will always be “lasts.”
The last time you spoke.
The last time you laughed together.
The last time you said I love you.
The last time you saw them alive.
This one, for me, is the last time I took a photo of my mom.
She was in rehab after heart surgery and we hadn’t seen her much. My second child was going back to college after a summer away working for a Christian camp in another state. I didn’t want her to miss seeing her Nana, so we went to see her.
She was having a rough day. She wasn’t breathing well, and she was very tired. We had about an hour between getting to the rehab (when the girls got home from their jobs) and her next rehab session.
I didn’t want A to miss her opportunity to see her, so we squeezed in. I actually felt bad taking a photo when she wasn’t feeling well, but I didn’t want to miss an opportunity. She hadn’t been healing well, and I was worried I wouldn’t get another chance.
She did come home for 4 days after this photo, while Autumn was already at college. She went back into the hospital and never came home again.
This is the last photo of her I took before her passing.
I didn’t take one when she was home. We were trying to help her with food and accommodations, but didn’t think to take a photo. She was still struggling to breathe, and honestly didn’t look much better. She wasn’t eating well for weeks and became so fragile.
There will be dozens of lasts I remember in the future, but for today, this is the last photo.