I note that it’s the people in their 50’s, 60’s, and 70’s who do most of the writing and commenting about “being old.” A few claim that aging is a blessing; however, not being there and having age as their own experience makes “knowing” impossible.
I am old, about to be 96, and still have awareness, memory, and a creative bent. I write essays and poetry and am about to publish a third book on current issues concerning leadership, power, communication, and the world’s challenges. Yet, none of this makes my getting older a “blessing.” The blessing is in my creativity, not my aging.
“Old” means not being who you were in so many ways that I won’t take the time or space to note them. Clearly, being old sucks for those of us who are really old despite being fantasized about as a “blessing” by those not there yet.
Perhaps these younger individuals are whistling in the dark out of sheer fear for what is to come. The old have no need to conjecture. They are in the very center of the storm and have a real sense of its outcome. The old may not speak about this, but they know what being old is. Words are inadequate. Only “It is what it is” comes close.
I loved my life and the many challenges Lenette and I faced almost daily. I love her and do so even more today. I know it will all end in the not-too-distant future. How in the world can I see this as a “blessing?”
The sand not endless—It runs out on all of us—time is limited.
Sy