What if this was the last time?

Hi friend,

Today was supposed to be a big celebratory post about the fact that I’ve now published a new weekly question for over 100 consecutive weeks!

But….

I’ve now spent the past 48+ hours thinking about a question prompted by the death of someone I don’t even know, so I thought it’d be good to process that one with you instead. Don’t worry, we’ll celebrate next week.

Let’s start here—James is sick. 

Well, our entire family has been sick for several weeks at different times and orders of magnitude so it’s not a huge deal. At eight months old the only methods of communication available to James are looking sad and screaming loud. He’s using both effectively. 

Let me preface this next part by saying, Leah handles all of this so well. There’s lots of care and concern (at all times of the day). There’s a window of time for me on the other hand—somewhere between 11:00 p.m. - 2:00 a.m.—where I’m not my best self. 

On the first night he was sick he got up a lot. I remember hearing him and thinking, “ugh,” and then laying there hoping Leah would hear him to get up with him. (not exactly a proud dad/husband moment).

On the second night, when he got up I decided to get up and hold him so Leah could rest (she’s now also sick). Have you ever done the right thing in the wrong headspace? I was holding him, but wasn’t exactly enjoying the quality time together.

As I’m rocking him in one arm, I use my free hand to open up Instagram and see this…

Stephen “tWitch” Boss dead at age 40 by suicide.

I didn’t know him. But it turns out, many of the kids I used to teach at the studio and other dancers I’ve worked with did know him. My feed was packed with tears and tributes. And then I saw a photo on his IG of their family and thought—they never could have known that would be the last time they saw him.

So at 1:18 in the morning, holding my youngest, I start to cry. 

And then, this question appeared.

What if this was the last time?

• What if this was the last time I got to hold James?

• What if this was the last Christmas I had with my family?

• What if this was the last conversation with a friend?

• What if this was our last year in Singapore?

Interestingly, someone I admire asked me a similar question recently. 

He asked, “what would be different if you knew this was your last year in Singapore?”

My response?

I would let myself enjoy things more.

By now, it’s closer to 2:00 a.m. and my eyes are still watery, as I’m reflecting, rocking, scrolling Instagram, and questioning my overall impact on those closest to me. I looked down at James and felt a wave of gratitude and love wash over me which of course prompted more tears.

I’ve now spent the last several days intensely focused on this question.

You know when you see those quotes about living every day like it’s your last? For years I used this question as a pseudo escape—a way for me to think about quitting my job and disregarding “day to day” life to have one final amazing day.

These past few days have been different.

I didn’t quit anything. 

I didn’t dramatically alter any actions.

But with this question, I experienced things differently. 

• I was more present in my conversations and more thoughtful about how I wanted people to feel if this was going to be the last time we ever connected.

• My prayers were more sincere.

• Even my workout yesterday was different. 

• My call with my grandma to celebrate her birthday meant more.

• I made more time for conversations with colleagues.

I enjoyed things more.

I’m not sure where you’re at while you’re reading this or what you have next on the calendar but I know if you give this question a try, the experience will be different.

Keep Asking!

-Kyle