I have spent my life avoiding lasts. I hated the last day of summer, the last day of school, the last day of a long break. The last dance, last chance, last…France? Okay, maybe not that one, but I had to find three to rhyme. When I travel, I hate the last day of the trip. When I’m at home, I hate the last day before I leave. I have always hated lasts. I hate lasts so much in fact, that when I was in high school, I would deliberately miss the last football game of every season. Not because I hated sports, but because I preferred to think of the previous game when I had no idea it was my last one. I was able to enjoy it without having to dwell on how I’d never have another one.
I hate the idea of never having something again. It’s like you can already feel the nostalgia starting but you feel stupid because hey, you’re supposed to enjoy your last whatever it is. In college, it’s harder to avoid lasts. My last SGA meeting, acapella concert, or Center for Writing and Speaking shift with all my senior friends. Last day in my apartment, last night out.
When my mom told me we’d be moving out of the home I’ve lived in my entire life, I had no reaction. It just didn’t register. When my senior friends started talking about graduating, about jobs, and careers, and getting married, I had no reaction. Nothing processed. When I started hearing the word “last,” it began to get real. “My last Pancake Jam,” “My last exam,” “My last class.” And it rang true at home, too. “Our last Easter here,” “Our last birthday here,” “Our last big family dinner here.”
I hate the word “last,” so, like any good English major, I decided to look up alternative meanings.
The Oxford English Dictionary has a whole bunch of meanings for the word “last,” but there were two that stuck out to me the most. The first was “only remaining.” At first, I read it as “just remaining,” or “merely remaining.” It seemed to belittle the time we have left. But after a few minutes of staring at it, the definition acquired a new meaning. Defining “last” in terms of things that remain is like looking at the half-empty glass as half-full. Remaining means you have something to look forward to, and not to dread.
It’s not “my last Pancake Jam,” it’s “my remaining Pancake Jam.” Not “my last day,” but “my remaining day.” And I like that so much better.
The second definition was “manage to continue in a state or position; to survive or endure.” And for me, that just sums up my Agnes Scott experience. Managing to survive? Yup, sounds about right. Lasting endurance sounds like something we could all use. Hopefully, we’ll continue to have lasting friendships with the seniors. Lasting memories to count on. I love the idea of the word “last” as meaning both “ending” and “continuing.”
So as we get ready for commencement, let’s think about the things we have remaining, and the things that will last. Remaining friends, remaining memories, and the remaining years ahead to make them all count. Lasting peace, lasting joy, lasting love.
To our seniors, we love you and we wish you every happiness.