I’ve done a few things for the last time. As I get older, I see many things pass me by that I’ll never have another opportunity to do. Stuff like playing professional football, climbing Mt. Everest, or winning a hot dog eating contest. You know, bucket-list things. I’m not lamenting my losses, there’s just some things I never got around to doing. I’ve done most of the “firsts” in my life. At fifty-eight, it’s inevitable that I’ve already done a lot. First kiss. First child. First job. First time being fired. The list goes on and on. There’s a couple of people in my life that qualify as my “lasts”. They both have birthdays this week, so I’d like to point out how important they are to me, and why. 

      Timothy Sean is my last child. He turns thirty-four on Veteran’s Day. He’s the last son I’ll ever get to raise. He came into my life during a hectic and busy time and proceeded to speed it up. He always kept me on my toes. He’s the last of my four children, and I’ve always said he was the “exclamation point” at the end of my “life’s sentence”. He came into this world moving fast and has rarely slowed down. He made me so tired. I was only twenty-four when he arrived. I’m grateful I had him so young, because I doubt, I would’ve had enough energy to endure his pace, had I been even a few years older. He’s always been a blessing, though. He was, and still is, a kind and thoughtful young man. He brought his own energy wherever he went. Born on Veteran’s Day, he became a Veteran himself when he served in Iraq and Kuwait during Operation Enduring Freedom. He’s always been a soldier, ready to do the job at hand and get things done. I’m so proud of the man, and father, he is today. He’s a great dad, a loving husband, and still brings that energy to the room. Usually, he uses that energy to chase his own four-year old around it, now. I couldn’t ask for a better “last” son.  

      Laura Gail is my last wife. She could toss me out on my ear tomorrow, and I’d never take another shot at marriage again. She’s ruined me. Maybe it’s the price I have to pay for marrying a younger woman, and maybe she just put the bar too high. She came into my life after I’d been a widower for eight years. I had no idea how to be single. I was really making a mess of it. She brought an order to my life that I can’t really explain. She brings out the better part of me that I didn’t know existed. She shows me, every day, what love means. She keeps me centered and focused. She found me at my worst and loved me until I was better. She saved me from myself. How could I love anyone else, after all that? Nope. She’s definitely my last.  

      Happy birthday to the both of you! You make my life better in more ways than you know. Thanks for being last.  

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