You never know when it will be the last time.

The last hug, the last kiss, the last time holding someone’s hand, the last hello or the last good-bye, we just never know when it’s happening, but once we realize it did, we go back to that moment often.

I’ve gone back to the “last time” many times this week.

First, I was thinking about the last time that I saw my friend, Fred Grande.  He was a customer of mine back when I worked for Wickes Lumber.  Truthfully, he was my biggest customer when I worked in the lumber industry, but I prefer to refer to him as a friend.  He passed away on November 8th.  I didn’t want to believe the news when I first heard it.  Fred was a larger-than-life figure who came to the United States from Italy and worked hard to achieve the American Dream.  How could he possibly be gone, but he was.  I learned so much from Fred when we did business together.  I learned about business, life, and family.  I wrote about him and his son Gian, who I later became a customer of in a post last year about the impact that they had on my life.  That post also became a chapter in my book, The Journey of My Mother’s Son, Volume I.

That last time that I saw Fred was in 2019 at one of his businesses, Russo Foods.  We talked briefly at lunch, he asked how my son, Jimmy was doing.  Jimmy had framed for Fred at Grande Construction for many years, so literally every time that I saw Fred, he asked how Jimmy was doing.  It wasn’t small talk; it was because he genuinely cared about how Jimmy was doing.  Fred wasn’t one for small talk.  He wasn’t always a man of many words, but when he had a conversation with someone, he was present.

We’ve been in Pennsylvania longer than we had ever planned to be here taking care of some family matters, it’s been frustrating at times, as I’m still learning to trust the Lord’s timing and then things happen that continue to explain our cause for pause in Pennsylvania that has been most of the year of 2022.

Had things gone as planned, I would have heard about Fred’s passing, but would not have been able to attend the viewing.  I don’t look forward to viewings, but this one I needed to be at.

I never realized that the lunch conversation that I had with Fred at Russo in 2019 would be the last time that I’d ever see him alive, but it was.  The week before Fred passed away, Sandy and I were literally talking about making sure that we stopped at Russo for lunch before we leave Pennsylvania.  We’ll still get there before we leave, but it won’t quite be the same now.

I may never see him again, but I will never forget the impact that he had on my life.

Tuesday night was another “last time” for us.

It was the last time that we saw my Aunt Joan alive.  She was diagnosed with pancreatic cancer back in July.  She passed away on Wednesday evening.  Different from the last time that I saw Fred, I was pretty sure that our visit on Tuesday was going to be the last time that I saw my Aunt Joan alive.  She had been moved into a Hospice facility just under a week before our visit.  She was heavily medicated during our final visit and slept through a good portion of it, but when she did wake up, she was responsive and grateful that we were there.  She was alert enough to question why my father, her brother, enjoyed eating scrapple.  Something that I question often as well.

When we first arrived, Sandy asked her if she would like for her to hold her hand.  My Aunt Joan took her hand out from under her blanket and placed it into Sandy’s hand.  Just her and Sandy held hands for a little while.  Then the three of us held hands before Sandy and I switched seats and just I held my aunt’s hand, gently rubbing it.  Her hand was still as soft as I ever remembered it being.  As a young child I remember how soft her hands always were.  When I was a boy, I would lay across her lap and she would gently rub my back.  Whenever we would go visit, I would say to her, “Aunt Joan, will you tickle my back tickly?”  The answer was always yes.  As I sat there rubbing her hand on Tuesday night, I felt that it was the least that I could do for her in order to attempt to repay her for all the times that she, “tickled my back tickly” when I was a kid.

With us being in Pennsylvania as much as we were this year, we were able to visit with her quite often. We were able to visit with her in the hospital when she first received the diagnosis and we were able to get over to her house and visit with her several times up until we left for Wisconsin in early September.  Her house was our last visit in Berks County before we headed west.

When we got back to Berks County in early October, we were able to visit with her several other times before that last time on Tuesday.  With each visit, we could see that she was getting a little bit closer to heaven’s door.

Again, had things gone as planned for us, we wouldn’t have had that final moment with her or any of the others that we did this year.

My Aunt Joan was a special human being.  I’ve been blessed with so many amazing aunts and uncles, but my Aunt Joan will always stand out.  She didn’t have any children of her own.  She didn’t get married until later in life, so at the age of 60, she got a step-son that she loved dearly.  But, as kids, she could give her undivided attention to all her nieces and nephews.

She did so much for all of us.  Aunt Joan may have been the glue that connected the cousins on that side of the family.  Even when I didn’t see my cousins as often as when we were kids, I would get updates on how they were all doing through my Aunt Joan.

Speaking for just myself, she took me on vacation with her, took me out to dinner, to the pool, and so many other things.  She would pick me up from the airport and take me to the airport when I lived in Florida because many times with my dad’s schedule as an over-the-road truckdriver, he wouldn’t be able to get to the airport.  Another thing that was a bi-product of my dad’s profession is that I spent a ton of time at my grandparents and aunt’s house over the summer.  What an incredible blessing that was for me.  I cherish those days of my childhood more than any others.

My dad bought my first car from her at an extremely discounted price and she signed on my loan for me to go to a trade school to become a sound engineer.  I paid on the loan, but she stuck her neck out for me.  I never did become a sound engineer, but that’s ok.

Those are just some of the things that she did for me that standout, I could never possibly list everything that she did for me as a kid and an adult.

From the time that my aunt received her diagnosis, she was ok with it.  She never felt bad for herself, was never angry and never asked, “Why me?”  She was ready to go home regardless of when that might be.  She was at peace with the life she lived.  She made the most out of every day.  My dad said it best back in August when he said, “She’s ready to go home, but we’re not ready for her to leave.”

Even though she didn’t get married until later, she made the most out of when her Prince Charming came into her life.  My Uncle George was certainly her greatest blessing.  They would have been married for 25 years next year, but that is an anniversary that they won’t get to celebrate now.  But the 24-plus years that they did have, they lived to the fullest.  They traveled, they lived, they loved, and in the end, he was there as her caretaker.

She made sure that we all knew how much he was taking care of her whenever we would visit.  “Thank God for George.” She would say, “He’s doing so much for me.”  She knew that God sent her a good one in Uncle George.  She never took him for granted.

Since Sandy and I have been traveling, there have been too many “last times” in my opinion, however, if there is a silver lining, I think it is that we don’t take anything for granted.

Me and my buddy Billy were just talking about this on the phone the other day.  About not taking anything or anyone for granted and cherishing every single moment and memory that we can make.  We concluded that perhaps it is because we are getting older ourselves and those “last times” are more frequent now.  We are at peace with whenever it is our time to go home, but still struggle with the fact that the others who we love may leave before us.

As humans, one of our worst traits is taking things, people, and moments for granted.  Always thinking that there will be a “next time” and never even considering that “this time” could actually be the “last time.”  Not making time today because we are “busy” or “tired” or fill in the blank because we can do it tomorrow, or next week, or next month.  Then it hits us that the last time was truly the “last time.”

None of us are going to get through this life alive, yet many times we act as though tomorrow is guaranteed.  I wrote about how life itself is a terminal illness a little over a year ago and the year 2022 has driven that point home even more.

The passing of Sandy’s sister from cancer back in May, some of our son-in-law’s family members over the past few months, Fred almost two weeks ago, and now my Aunt Joan are all affirmations that the only thing that we are guaranteed is this moment right now.

So, hug a little tighter, kiss a little longer, visit as often as you can, and never take this moment for granted because we never know when it will be the last time.