How often do we notice the last time?

I've been thinking a lot about "last times" lately. How often we move through life without realizing that a moment is final — that something we did regularly, something that felt like a part of us, has quietly happened for the last time.

Forgetting to live in the moment

Leaving Microsoft was a moment like that for me. It wasn't an ending I dwelled on too much at the time; I was focused on what came next. But now, looking back, I wonder: when was the real last time? The last time I logged in for a meeting without thinking much of it? The last time I grabbed a jasmine tea in the office kitchen, assuming I'd be back again soon? If I had known — if someone had told me, Hey, this is your tenth-to-last time doing this — would I have paid more attention? Would it have changed how I felt about the days leading up to the end?

That's what fascinates me. We might recognize the last time in hindsight, but what about the near-last times? If you knew you were seeing a friend for the second-to-last time, would you hold onto the moment a little longer? If you knew you only had ten more morning commutes, ten more Sunday dinners with family, ten more times stepping into your favorite bookstore — would those moments feel different? Or do they only gain meaning when they're already gone?

Of course, endings don't exist in isolation.

They're tied to beginnings. Leaving one job meant starting something new — something uncertain and thrilling as a full-time startup founder. That's the other side of this idea: every last time is tethered to a first. The last time you walk through the door of your childhood home is also the first time you live somewhere new. The last time you say goodnight to someone marks the beginning of nights without them.

There's something bittersweet about it, but I think that's part of what makes the human experience so meaningful. The fact that we don't always know when things are slipping away forces us to appreciate them more — if not in the moment, then at least in reflection.

Focusing on the present

Maybe we can't always recognize the last time. But if we learn to think about the tenth-to-last, the near-last, the soon-to-be-over moments — we might just learn to be more present for all the times in between.

The end.

Dedicated to my dear colleagues in the office who filled every moment with passion and a thirst for life. I'm so honored to have spent time with you and called you my friends.