From the President’s Desk: Nothing lasts – and that can be a good thing

My wife and I have friends who are across the board when it comes to their kids’ ages. Some of them are taking their kids to college in just a few months, some are celebrating their kids’ first birthdays, and many have kids of ages in between.

All parents talk about all the “firsts” their kids have in their future. First solid food, first word, first step, first time sleeping through the night. The “first” few years are full of new horizons, and they grow up so quickly! Then, there’s the first day of school, first friends, first school picture, and so on. The early years are a time to celebrate milestones of beginning.

Strangely, as kids get older, I think most parents start to celebrate some “lasts.” When’s the last parent-teacher conference? The last day of school? When do they take their last AP test? Or when do they finally log the last practice hour before the driver’s test? When is the last college application due? When is our last college payment, finally?

Our kids, it turns out, are still celebrating firsts during all this: their first relationship, their first real job, their first home – all exciting things! Yet as they turn toward raising their own kids, they fall into the same pattern. The “firsts” are great, but after a while, “lasts” feel like a relief.

Ironically, there’s a turning point where lasts don’t feel like a victory anymore. The last Thanksgiving before selling the house, the last day at our job of 25 years, the last big trip we take with our parents or grandparents. We can easily find ourselves thinking back on our firsts and wishing for more.

As I reflected on these “lasts” and “firsts,” it got me thinking about something tough to swallow. As it turns out, EVERYTHING will be a last someday. Take me, for example. There will be a last time I travel overseas, a last time I fly on a plane, and a last time I drive a car. I’ve played guitar for 31 years, but there will be a day, guaranteed, when I won’t play any more notes. In opposition to those early firsts, which I so dearly loved and still sometimes talk about, I’ll cook in the kitchen one more time; I’ll fill in my final crossword squares; I’ll read my last pages from a book … I’ll even use my final words.

This is a heartbreaking truth. It can be painful to think about these lasts because so many of them will be hard for us. But, the pain is outweighed by something much bigger and equally true: termination is the thing that brings beauty to our existence.

If flowers lasted forever in a vase, what would be the romance in delivering a fresh bouquet? It wouldn’t be special for someone to bring you one. You’d already have one just like it on the counter! If we each had thousands of years to get good at something, would talent really matter?* We’d have no reason to recognize those great at their craft because we could easily surpass their skills with just a few decades of practice. If we could not die, would we bother to appreciate living?

So while we’re going through life celebrating all the firsts and the potential that each moment holds, let’s not dread the lasts. Instead, let’s recognize the power of finality and use it to build a better future. Take your job as an example. If it was the last job you ever had, even if it’s the first job you’ve had, would it change how you show up? If this was the last spouse you were going to have, even if they’re the first spouse you’ve ever had, would you look for ways to be better to each other? If you knew you were going to take your last shot, how would you make it count?

Everything, it turns out, has a “first” and a “last.” These are the necessary bookends of human existence. We don’t get forever, but while we’re here, we get the chance to do almost anything. Breathe in the joy of all the “firsts” you see around you every day. And don’t forget to celebrate who time makes you. The fact that things can end someday is what makes each instant special, and everything that happens until that “last” is up to you.

*In fairness, with 10,000 years at our disposal, we could all train to be, say, Travis Kelce. Though, I maintain that, regardless of practice, none of us could ever be Taylor.

P.S. For a fun, twangy summary of this concept in a lot fewer words, check out Greg Pratt’s single “First.”