I remember the last kiss...both of them. The first last kiss I remember was the one when he woke me up as he got home from work at 2:30 am on September 29th. He told me he loved me and was going to make a snack before he came to bed. I smiled, rolled over, and went back to sleep. The other last kiss I remember was several weeks later in very different circumstances. We had just unloaded the last of his things into the driveway of his parents' house. We were standing behind my truck. He began crying. I began crying. I asked him "Why? Why did you throw us away?" He didn't have an answer, and there wasn't any answer he gave that would have fixed the fracture in my heart. I clenched my fists and hit the tailgate of my truck in anger as I choked back sobs. I walked towards him, put my hand on his cheek and kissed the other. I told him I loved him and that I just didn't understand and I walked around to the driver's side of my truck and jumped in. As I backed down the driveway, my headlights silhouetted the man that I had picked. The man I said "I do" with. The man I'd created my beautiful girls with. Standing there forlornly in the midst of piles of boxes. He was sobbing. And I was also as I drove away, unknowingly closing the book of The Story of Us.
The first last kiss was in the early morning hours before my life would slowly begin to unravel. Just twenty-four hours later I would find out something so sinister about the man I had married, it would lead to him being arrested and charged with two felony counts days later. The second last kiss would occur three days before he would kill himself. I will never forget those kisses, or all of the moments surrounding those kisses.
Who would have thought that would have been my last kiss? I didn't have any suspicion that life would soon be unraveling when he woke me that morning. Would I have done something differently? Would I have pulled him closer, lingered a bit longer, told him how deeply I loved him or how happy he made me or how thankful I was that he was my husband? And I certainly didn't know he was inside his parents house right before I got there, sorting his belongings into piles to distribute among his family. Would I have done something differently? Would I have prayed with him? Would I have told him how much I loved him? Would I have tried to convince him not to follow through on that plan?
You never know when it will be your last kiss. What if we treated every kiss like it was the last? What if I lingered just a bit longer as I'm kissing Amelia and Emerson as I leave the house in the morning on my way to work? What if I kissed my daddy's cheek more than once as I throw my arms around his neck and tell him how much I love him? What if we made passion-filled kisses with our spouses be the kind that fills your head with sparks and your stomach with butterflies, just like the first kiss?
And what if we extended this last kiss idea to just general feelings and interactions with others? What if our encounter with the bank teller was treated in the manner that it will be your last encounter with her? That your interaction with her will be the last thing that speaks to who you are. Would you even know her name? What would you want her to remember about you? Were you kind? Were you polite? Or were you in a hurry and chose to take your bad day out on her?
Or how about the students that I work with? Do I want them to remember me to be kind and loving and honest and an advocate for them? Will they remember that I loved them? Or will they feel like they were a bother to me?
The last kiss...the last interaction...what do you want your legacy to be? Too often we rush through life, giving each other quick pats on the back or little pecks on the cheek as we rush through life from one thing to the next, not knowing that it could be your last time with that person. How do you want to be remembered? What do you want your last interactions with that person to be? Quick and insignificant? Or do you want them to know exactly how much they mean to you? How much you love them?
I am not satisfied with my last kiss. I want a redo. I don't know what I would change for sure. I don't know how it would look differently. I look at my test and I do see the testimony that I now know. I see the blessings that have been interjected into my life because of the circumstances that we've been through. But I would like another last kiss chance.
Since that last kiss, I have worked hard to make sure that my moments with people, should they be my last moment with them, are filled with love and joy and peace. It doesn't always work. I have mild cases of road rage while I'm driving with the best of them. I get frustrated with co-workers. I let moments slip by where I neglect to call that friend I haven't talked to in forever. But losing someone changes you. You begin to look at moments and think about "what if I never see her again?" Or "what if this is my last conversation with this person?" It seems morbid, but it's just something that happens. So, my motto is always to be kind. Remember that they are fighting demons too and they need a hug or a smile or a chance to hear that they are loved or a prayer or a shoulder.
Tomorrow, I am attending the funeral of a man who is very important to me. I have known him literally most of my life. He sat in the pews behind us in church from the time I was a little girl with pigtails sitting in front of him and still sat behind us when I carried my own little girls into church. He was a fellow Husky and was a die-hard Seahawks fan. When I would describe him to people that didn't attend my church I'd call him my football grandpa. He passed away on New Years Day. He had been ill and had to have surgery to have stints put in. There were complications and he slipped into a coma. He fought hard, but he just couldn't fight any longer. The middle of December, I had an appointment at Swedish, where he was a patient. I went to my appointment and checked the time. I could catch an earlier ferry and get back to work, but I felt like I needed to go visit him. That needed to be my priority. I went to his room and greeted him and his wife. We sat and chatted for about an hour. We laughed and talked about the Huskies and the Seahawks and church and how everyone missed him. I showed him pictures of Amelia and Emerson in their advent programs. I decided it was time to go and catch that ferry so I stood up, patted his leg and blew him a kiss. The last kiss...he would never make it back home. I am so thankful that I stopped that day. I'm so thankful that I was there to tell him I loved him and to give him that kiss. The last kiss...
So take a second with the people around you. Be kind. Be thoughtful. You never know when it will be your last kiss. You can live in fear thinking it will be your last. There is a balance. But my message is to just pause and appreciate those moments with your loved ones. Each and every moment. There is no pain like the regret of needing to redo your last kiss and not getting that chance. Be kind and never regret your last kiss...
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