There’s an old Brad Paisley song from 2017 named Last Time for Everything. And in it, a line that has always stuck with me: “There’s a last time for everything.”

The song talks about high school. The last football game. The last party with friends. The last time you walk the halls before life pulls everyone in different directions.

But the older you get, the more you realize that line isn’t really about high school.

It’s about life.

Lately I’ve been thinking about it through the lens of being a dad. When you have a young kid, you start noticing these moments differently. One day, there will be a last time my son asks for his teddy bear. One day, there will be a last time I carry him upstairs because he fell asleep on the couch. One day, there will be a last time he calls me “Daddy” and instead, just “Dad.”

And the truth is, none of us know when those moments are happening.

Sometimes he’ll yell from the other room, “Daddy, come here!” and I’m in the middle of something. Work. Email. A phone call. But that song pops into my head. There’s a last time for everything. Maybe this is the last time he’ll ask me to come see whatever it is he’s excited about. Maybe this is the last time he wants me in that moment. So I close the laptop and go.

The outdoors teaches us this lesson too.

There may be a last time your kid wants to sit in the blind with you at 5 a.m.
There may be a last time they say, “Can we go fishing this weekend?”
There will be a last hunt with your dad.
There will be a last hunt with your grandfather.
There will be a last sunrise in a duck blind with the people who helped shape who you are.

But it’s not just family, think about your buddies too. The guys you’ve shared a hunting camp with for years. The friends you’ve fished with since you were kids. The group text that lights up every fall when someone spots the first buck on camera.

One year, you’re all together around a fire after a long day in the woods. The next year, someone can’t make it. Life gets busy. Kids show up. Jobs change. Someone moves away. And sometimes life throws something heavier your way. Health problems. Financial hardship. A marriage falling apart.

Suddenly that annual trip… that fishing weekend… that hunt you always assumed would happen again… doesn’t.

And here’s the hard part about all of this: when the last time actually happens, we rarely recognize it.

Nobody wakes up and says, “This will be the last time I hunt with my dad.” Nobody walks away from the boat ramp thinking, “That was the last time we’ll fish together.”
Nobody tucks their kid into bed and realizes, “That was the last night he asked me to carry him upstairs.” It just quietly happens.

My family has a saying: Tomorrow is never promised.

My dad passed away when he was 51. I was seven. I don’t remember what his last normal day looked like. I sometimes wonder if I asked him to play, or to come see something, or to spend a few minutes with me. I hope he did.

So this weekend, if someone asks you to go fishing, go. If your son or daughter wants to tag along, make room. If your buddy calls about going on a turkey hunting trip, say yes. If your dad calls and wants to talk about nothing, let him talk.

Because one day there will be a last time. So show up like it might be.

See you in the woods.

John

PS: I just realized that the game cam pic of my son Jack and me at the top of this email was the last time we would take this picture (it has become a tradition when we check cams together), that he would still have his baby front teeth. They sure do grow up fast! See, told ya, there’s a last time for everything!

And if this Foxhole Friday hit home for you, consider purchasing our latest issue. Our cover story with Steve Harvey is all about the same spirit we’ve been talking about here. Fishing, mentorship, and how the outdoors shapes the moments that matter in life. It’s the kind of story that reminds you why we make time for the woods, the water, and the people we share it with. Grab a copy, take it with you to the blind, the boat, or the back porch, and enjoy a few quiet pages before the next memory gets made.