Ooo what a day to read this! I went to a party last night – the same party my friends and I have had for over 25 years. The same, yet different. Their kids are all grown now, and for the first time THEIR friends outnumbered us at the party we created so long ago. It was…humbling. I look at their youth and think, wow – that was us, once. But the most humbling part was my dearest friend in the world; the one who picked me up off the floor so many years ago when my husband left…and picked me up when she delivered the news that my mother had suddenly died…that friend; that true, grounded friend. Her husband, 25 years ago, was the life of the party. An annoying, boasting, vibrant very heavy drinker. Yet he was fun, too. I can still see him, drunk, but supple – laying down on the floor where his children slept on a blanket in my living room. He looked at my friend and he said, we made these little beings – aren’t they beautiful? He annoyed me, but he was like that. A few years ago he had a drink related stroke. He continues to drink, in “secret” and it’s impossible for him to stop – one needs a zest to do so, and all the imploring in the world can’t make someone do that. So he fades, becomes wizened, feeble, frail. He slurs, he wobbles – partially from the stroke, partially from the drink. But last night he broke my heart. This little shell of a man, once that vibrant soul – he wanted to dance with his wife in the middle of rollicking Irish jigs and reels. She said I’ll dance with you soon; I think you’ll fall. He wanted to dance, though, so in the middle of this line of dancers in their 20’s, early 30’s and us, aging (but not old yet) “grown-ups” he joined her. And she slow danced with him – he shuffled in place and leaned heavily on her. Her hips swayed and she put her head on his shoulder and the crowd was brought to tears. It’s aging in the worst way for him, and it broke my heart. Aging gracefully is in the heart, mind, and soul – and sometimes how you dance with your weak, wobbly, ill husband.
There is no question about it. It f*cking sucks. I mean, who are we kidding? There is nothing even remotely romantic about having lines on one’s face that show the world every single experience you’ve ever had. And who wouldn’t want to travel the world, imbibe several cultures, meet amazing people, and have life-changing experiences, but still stay a perennial 27?
There is nothing joyous about watching your loved ones go from being dynamic humans to become shells of themselves…just because they got old. Even the strongest of them, the most forward-thinking and positive of them all, eventually get so weak and tired that they simply want to let go.
It can gut you when you see the change and havoc that aging brings on people, including our own selves."
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