The Last Time

One time, when I pass, the hours before, while still alive and living this wonderful life, I wonder about my lasts. The day I wake from sleep, that is to be my last day of life, unbeknownst to me, how many lasts, will I enjoy?

The last time I pull my socks on, the last time I brush my teeth, the last time I have a cup of coffee by myself at 4am. The last time I will pet my cat, the last time I will put my hand on my wife’s forehead, when I wake her gently every morning at 5:30 every weekday.

I’m 64 now, and the frequency of family and friends and acquaintance suddenly passing are increasing. The other day my friend from work said his brother was found in a MacDonald parking lot slumped over the steering wheel, where he pass of a heart attack while eating breakfast. He was 63. He did not know that sitting in the parking lot, anticipating his breakfast, car running for heat, everything in its place, the coffee, napkin, utensils, and his breakfast on his lap. He was found hours later when they noticed he had been slumped over for about 7 hours with the car running.

As I cut my nails, my thoughts go to how I really don’t want long fingernails when I’m in my coffin, or in need of a haircut. Rather, I would prefer to have just freshened up, showered and was very clean. Emptied my bowels so their are no issues there after being deceased. I want to be clean and presentable.

When I exercise I think, I don’t want to look fat in my coffin… got to lose this weight so I look good dead.