My mother died when she was in her mid-60s of heart-related issues. I maintain to this day that it was well before her time. I could be all Buddhist, existentialist, what-have-you and know that her time to go was her time to go, but I watched her make choices (or not make choices), deteriorate and eventually leave this world. A part of me believes that she simply gave up and let the diseases in her body take over. That's a horrible, hard thing to say about someone you love, who raised you: I am well aware of this.
You don't have to go very far to read about the challenges we will face as the population ages. As my father approaches 80, it's top of mind for me and my brother. Dad has balance problems (stairs are not his friend), and while my mother seemed passive as her body aged, my father is TICKED! He was the type of guy who had to be busy all the time and was very active in his church and in the small town where we lived. Given that, I was sad to hear that he stopped singing in his community's male chorus, something he participated in as long as I can remember. I know I cannot live his life, but I want to say to him every day, "Do NOT give up! Growing old is a state of mind--fight it!"
Hmmm....I wonder what I'll think thirty-odd years from now, when I'm his age. My parents are like my arms--I don't know what I'd be without them, so it's difficult as an adult to watch them age in a way over which I have no control. I wish my mother was alive, wearing purple, travelling the world, playing tennis...I wish my father was finally getting his pilot's license...
Mom & Dad with Dad's parents, late 50's, early 60's
I'm going off-topic again. Lo siento. We all want the best for the ones we love, no? And I'm such a control freak that it gives me hives when I see that my loved ones lives could be better If. Only.They.Listened.To.Me.
So when I read about someone who upon their first day of retirement decides on her own to make better choices, to be honest about who she is and how she wants to live, I rejoice. Martha Bair Steinbock is an overweight grandmother in her 60s, but she wants to run a mile in some sort of official race. "Somewhere in me is an athlete, albeit buried deeply under layers of fat," she says. She goes on to write,
...a personal trainer is out because I won't follow directions. A track team is out because I would have to be friendly. And the concept of be flailing around in water aerobics with other fat people wearing flotation belts emphazing our large girths reminds me of the scene from Fantasia in which the elephants dance wearing tutus. So I am doing this on my own.
She's a funny, funny lady.
It might take her a while, and she's already written about some setbacks, but I am still going to be her groupie. I hope you will be too. While you're at it, be your parent's groupies. The next time I see my dad, we're going for a stair-less walk and I'm going to sing "They Called the Wind Maria" with him.
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