The last straw: broke, the camel's back.
The last word in poetic licenses: get one in your favorite color.
The last will and testament: old and new and made new.
The last day of the shortest month: no leap year.
The last gasp: exceeding my grasp and reaching.
The last person I wanted to see: you.
The last day of the week: Thursday in the Q.
The last hurrah: preceding the home stretch of the semester, not a horse race.
The last day before spring break: Valencia here I come despite eleventh hour complications.
The last resort: a hotel across the street from the station.
The last laugh: over dinner, over done, over and over.
The last time I did this: last month some time.
The last word: minutes before midnight.