Here I stand, approaching in only 10 more days, the end of my seventieth trip around the sun as a free-standing physical being on this planet. It’s a bit surreal.
Until now, I never really considered myself “old”. But things have happened during these past few years, the aggregate of which, have caused me to rethink my self-assessment.
Mortality now seems like a timely subject for thought. Several friends have passed away during the past couple years and their departures have impacted my assumed security. I mean, if THEY can succumb, can I be far behind?
My own father died at age 63. I successfully crossed that mile marker 7 years ago. My paternal grandfather died at age 72. That milestone is not far off now.
I had a strange feeling when my dad died. (By the way, I bear his name with a “Jr” tacked on.) I thought to myself “there, I’ve passed the point of dad’s example. What track can I run on now?”
It was a fair question. My father’s conduct through his life conveyed to me the lessons of what it meant to be and adult, a father, a leader. Now suddenly, there were no more examples to study. I was on my own.
Things I love to do, now take more effort and in some cases even cause a bit of pain. Arthritis in my hands requires that I perform stretching exercises before I even pick up a guitar, and there’s a variable limit to how long I can play without pain. Quality of Life eroding.
So, I look for ways to ward off the onslaught of deterioration. More exercise, less of certain foods, but these efforts, admittedly, should have been started 30 years ago.
Consequently, I find myself hoping for a genetic miracle – hoping there are more of my mother’s genes in me than my father’s. She turns 98 a month from now. She still lives independently (to a large degree) and walks a mile or two every day. It occurs to me that 98 was the age at which her own mother passed away. I’ll have to ask her if she’s thought about passing that milestone as I did with dad. It’s likely not anywhere near the same since her mother was not independent and dementia had taken her mind by then. Mom says she wonders how much longer she’ll be around, even though a year ago she surmised she might even make 110. The past year has been tough on her and lessened her optimism.
We’re planning a trip to celebrate her birthday, and Thanksgiving, with her and the available family. That should offer some soul-revival that only family love and laughter can provide. It will help me as well, I’m sure.
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