I remember my grandfather opining about the many losses in his life as he inched deeper and deeper into old age. He remarked that most people saw his advanced age of one hundred eight years old as something to celebrate, but he was not so sure that it was all that it was cracked up to be. By that time he had lost his spouse, all of his children, many of his children and great grandchildren, all all of the friends he had once enjoyed. While he greatly appreciated the attention that he received from the many young people who took the time to visit him, he longed for rest from a life punctuated with so much loss from the moment of his birth when his mother died.
Grandpa was an optimistic soul and a survivor who never complained about anything, but he simply became very tired. He had valiantly found his way from the nineteenth century to the last quarter of the twentieth. He had seen the evolution of the world from a time when small pox was feared to the days when it had essentially been eradicated from the earth. He had lived in a time when darkness was lit by oil lamps into the days of electricity and modernization of virtually every aspect of life. He worked in Oklahoma before it was a state and when oil was first discovered there. He marveled at the movies, telephones, and planes that were invented when he was a young man. He was in awe of the progress that was coming more and more quickly the longer he lived. He knew that he was indeed a fortunate man, but he grew weary in the last few years of his life, mostly because he thought more and more about the loss of the people whom he had so loved.
My Aunt Valeria was also a centenarian and much like my grandfather she often spoke of being ready to meet her heavenly reward but wondered why it was taking so long for the completion of her days on earth to be resolved. She would joke that perhaps she was still a bit too mean to travel to heaven. Of course that was her impish way of making fun of her long and wonderful life. She was the last of what had once been a very large family. Nine of her siblings had already died, some as infants. She had been a good and faithful woman but like my grandfather she was tired. Her osteoporosis had stolen her ability to walk and confined her to waiting for a caretaker to move her from her bed. Her life became more and more limited as the years continued to pass. Those who had once religiously visited her were no longer on this earth. Others became disabled themselves and so there was a kind of dreaded loneliness that defined her world. Still, she always found a way to smile whenever I visited her.
There are people who somehow outlast their peers by decades. We don’t always know who they will be. My grandfather’s grandmother lived until the age of eighty eight in the nineteenth century without any kind of medical care, so genetics may explain his longevity. Most of my aunt’s family members died before their nineties with the exception of her twin sisters who made it to almost ninety five. She was the second oldest child so nobody expected her to be the last to die. Perhaps the care she received in the nursing home where she live for over twenty years may have made a difference. I suppose we will never really know why some people leave the earth quite early and others remain for an unimaginably long time.
Neither my grandfather nor my aunt had particularly good habits. Grandpa smoked cigars and a pipe until the final months of life. He ate fatty foods and sugary treats without concern. My aunt’s diet only became controlled when she lived at the nursing home. Before that she never exercised or did any of the healthy living that we are told will provide us with longevity. Her biggest health problem was severe osteoporosis.
I have been thinking about such things because I know that many of my schoolmates have already died. Others have been sidelined by heart disease and cancer. Somehow I just keep rocking along feeling as though I am still a teenager aside from my own osteoporosis which I am keeping at bay with biannual injections of Prolia. Other than some arthritis in some of my joints I have a strong heart and no real medical problems so I sometimes think that I might follow in the footsteps of my grandfather and my aunt. Having listened to them I wonder if that will be a blessing or a difficult time when I have to watch my circle of family and friends dwindling.
All the talk of whether or not Joe Biden or Donald Trump should be seeking the presidency at their advanced ages has made me think about growing old. I am not quite as old as either of them but I know that I sometimes forget words and have to pause for a few moments to retrieve them from my memory. I can’t move as quickly as I once did, but I get more done in a single day than most women half my age. I know that those who do not know me view me as an old lady, but I have not yet felt that way. I suppose that we can’t really define the moment when someone might become too old to do something.
My grandfather was working fourteen hours a day on his farm when he was well into his eighties. When my grandmother became ill with cancer he secured a job at NASA where he did manual labor until a supervisor insisted that he go home at the age of eighty eight. His mind was clear but his gait was measured as each subsequent year passed. He might have easily handled the duties of President of the United States even beyond the age of one hundred. Thus I think we worry a bit too much about what older people might be able to do. If they have the stamina to keep going why would we want to prematurely shut them down?
None of us ever know when death may come. Our lives can end in the blink of an eye regardless of age. On the other hand those men vying for the highest office in the land may keep going for another twenty years or more. We just never know. What I do know is that age should not matter and it is silly to worry about when death will come. What really makes us old is the feeling that we no longer make a difference in the world. We would do well to provide meaning to even the oldest among us and not focus on our fears about them. We simply cannot know how long anyone will be remain with us.
All It Takes Is A Little Love 