Am I Old, Then? Denial? Acceptance? Or a Shift in Perception

 

Lately, I have been pondering a lot about aging and what it means to get older. Perhaps it’s because of an approaching birthday this month (how is it that they now arrive more frequently than they did before?). Perhaps it’s because of recent memory triggers. Or both. It took me down a path of questioning – Am I old, then?

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April 20th, 2022 was the tenth anniversary of my father’s death. Ten years, gone by so quickly that it feels like only five. I remember that night, sitting around his bedside with my siblings, listening to his breathing, looking at the clock as the lapses between breaths grew longer. Ten years since my 86-year-old father died. If he’d lived, he would be 96 now. If my mother had lived, she would be 99. That would be improbable, for me to have a 96-year-old father, a 99-year-old mother. Am I old, then?

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Guy Lafleur, The Flower, Number 10, died on April 22, 2022 and was given a national funeral.  Lafleur, the hockey player with the blond flowing locks who glided over the ice through the eighties. I was an intense hockey fan then, devoutly supporting the Maple Leafs, and so, by definition, not a Montreal Canadiens fan. But you could not NOT love Guy. He died, at the age of seventy. Not so much very older than I. My daughter, an avid present day hockey fan, wasn’t born when Guy retired. Am I old, then?

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I attended a webinar recently. It was for old people. The presenter talked about exercise and nutrition for those with diabetes, high blood pressure, osteoarthritis or osteoporosis. Am I old then? I asked myself. I wasn’t the only one who did not turn the video camera on. I looked at the faces of those who did. Their faces were lined, their hair unabashedly grey. Was I old like them? No. They were, but not me. Why not? I’m no longer middle-aged; I’m in my third act. No question about that. I have experienced a bit of what the presenter talked about. But I’m not old.

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The friendship with one of my closest friends has lasted over fifty years. Although an ocean and thousands of miles separate us, we’ve remained close. She recently welcomed her first grandchild. Other school friends have grandchildren. I’m thinking I might like one too. Am I old then, with friendships spanning decades and future grandkids on my mind? Am I transitioning from parent to that world of doting grandparents?

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Why this reluctance to think of myself as old? Our culture is youth-obsessed to be sure, and the older we get the more invisible we become. Yet, inside we feel stronger, more alive, more creative, more fulfilled and purposeful. So then, why not claim old age? Is it vanity? The need for validation or admiration?  Why not say, “Yes, I am old. I am one of you now, the grey-haired, the finely wrinkled, the sweetly forgetful, the sensibly shod, the elastic-waist-wearing demographic. I am one of you. ”

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No, we are not old. We are older. Older than we were last year, last decade. Our expected life span is increasing. Once we retire, we might live for another thirty years. The language needs to change, along with the perception of old as something undesirable, something to be hidden away, gently mocked, or worse, ignored. The answer does not lie in the clichéd ‘Age is just a number’. So what is the answer? I do not know. Ageism is gaining more attention as boomers retire. But at some point we each have to define what aging means for us individually, how we are to live fully and bravely, strong and rooted in who we are.

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Stand Like a Tree

 

“I shall not be moved,” said Maya Angelou

Stand like a tree beside the river bed.

Her words, they speak. Do not waver from who

You are inside, by the words others said.

The oak does not bend to the ground to sweep

Away debris from humans passing by

It is not the task of the oak to keep

Clearing dirt. The oak reaches to the sky.

Stand like a tree, roots reaching far, far down

Arms lifted up to clouds in surrender

Know your own belonging when there is none

To which you can hold, secure or tether.

                Stand like a tree, do not be moved or bowed.

                Bend, sway, with roots planted in solid ground.

                                                        Pearl Richard