The Last Gift

The other night, I believe early one Monday morning - 
I lay awake in my bed while she silently recharges her body
a thought rushed my mind as if I were Richard Sherman hawking a football:
The Last Gift.
What does that mean, or what should it insinuate?
Is it literally a physical gift, an excused date, a sacrifice?
What?
Does this have anything to do with me?

As I attempted to slide out of our queen-size bed, I could feel a boulder containing me. 
I've gotta pee, I remember telling myself
but I didn't want to disturb the one asleep visiting dreamland.
A return to Dogwood Lakes (and partying cockroaches) are a reality we both dare not venture.
In cobralike fashion, I slither out of bed toward a white porcelain god across the dark hallway.
Ssssss, I silently shimmy over to the target struggling to aim for the ocean blue target:
the one-eyed creature blinks incessantly due to an excessively bright bathroom light.
The yellow-tinted urine has found its target!
I flush the toilet, turn off that devilish light, and tiptoe to a soft sanctuary next to my love.

I still couldn't go back to sleep, so I thought about the last gift:
Who? What?
I began to recall items I have given from my heart in the past such as 
a poetry notebook, Abercrombie warmups, one hundred dollars, and a myriad of assorted gifts come to mind. 
Yet, I still don't know what the last gift could be.
I plan on giving the dame resting next to me an engagement ring soon, but this isn't it. 
I thought about the Dallas Cowboys beanbag and remote control Chevy Silverado and restaurant gift certificates and so forth, but to no avail.

Perhaps the last gift is what I leave behind after I depart for the heaven bound train, 
My words, my actions, my imperfect attempts at this Christian life...
then it hit me.
The Last Gift is the greatest gift
one of altruism and service toward our fellow man.
Christ gave us His life, so why can't we offer something in return?
Kinda like "paying it forward", I suppose. 

On December 25 or anytime a gift is exchanged,
acknowledge that the last gift may be the greatest gift.