There was a last time your dad carried you to bed, and nobody told either of you. Pay attention to the lasts.

Endings mostly arrive without notice. Firsts get marked and photographed, while the last time something happened passes as an ordinary evening, and you only learn it was the last much later, by looking back and finding no next one. That is not tragic exactly, but it is worth knowing while things are still ongoing.

You cannot label the lasts in advance, so the only available move is attention now. Sit in the kitchen a little longer, take the call, go on the drive. Ordinary repeated moments are finite, and noticing them while they are still happening is most of what anyone means by presence.