When I’m 64
In a week, I’ll be turning 64. There was a time that milestone sounded like it would be a marker of old age. After all, Paul McCartney wrote a Beatles’ song about it, back in his 20’s, that I’ve been hearing ever since I was 12. He’s now exceeded that age by a dozen years and is still going strong at 76.
On most days, I do not feel old at all. In fact, in many ways, I feel younger now than I did in my 20’s. I was dealing with so many issues back then, compared to what I deal with now. I still have my fair share of issues these days, but I’ve cultivated a better set of tools to deal with them over the years, especially the ability to not be overwhelmed by anything this day might bring. It’s become more a matter of what I have to bring to the day, than what it might throw at me.
Energy sometimes becomes a little harder to come by, now. But even energy, I know, is a decision. It’s much easier for me to make the decision to slow down now, than it used to be. I’ve come to appreciate life at a slower pace. This has only begun to happen in the past few years, in my 60’s. It’s been a process — and a decision.
I spent my 50’s running around, making sure I did all the things that I had put off between my 20’s and my 50’s in order to focus on career, family, and building a life with my wife and son. By age 50, those things were all firmly in place, and I was able to find the time to play sports to my heart’s content, to write like my hair was on fire, and to up our travel game considerably, all of which I did to extremes in my 50’s.
It took health issues to slow me down as I entered my 60’s, so I learned to enjoy the slower pace of life that led to. I saw it as learning to pace myself. A new goal became to live to be 100, but to get there in good shape. It’s a worthy goal, and forces me to think about what I’m doing that is sustainable, and what I might need to rethink, if I really expect to achieve that goal.
I’ll admit, there is that part of me that acknowledges that my Dad only lived to age 77, cut down by the unexpected, cancer. His mother and older sister both lived to be 100, and his grandfather lived to age 93, so I conclude that if the cancer hadn’t gotten him, he might have achieved better longevity, as well. Plus, these days, cancer isn’t as much of a death sentence as it once was.
In Dad’s case, he made some choices, revolving around quality of life, that I would probably make a little differently. He chose not to have surgery, chemo-therapy or radiation, all of which were options available to him. He had a real fear of being cut into, and didn’t believe either of the other options would have left him with much of a quality of life. He decided to die with dignity. That worked for him, and I always honored his decision. He had to live, or die, with those decisions, nobody else did, and he and mom both taught us that whatever we decided to do in life, we were the ones who had to live with it. I do hope that I can manage to die with the kind of dignity he had, to the very end.
I’ve never been afraid of surgery. Each one I’ve had has resulted in an improved quality of life. I was ready to have them cut into my head to remove the tumor that was in there, but a wise doctor advised a wait-and-see approach, which worked even better. The tumor went away on its own. I’ve learned to listen to doctors, even when I don’t like what they’re telling me. They (hopefully) usually know what they’re talking about. I pray for discernment to know when they don’t.
But, knowing that anything can happen, at any given time, I stand ready to either enjoy longevity, or to call it a life, tomorrow. It’s a good day to die, as the old American Indian saying went, and if my number comes up suddenly, I’ll go knowing I held nothing back from living my life the way I saw fit to live it.
While 64 is just a number — I look forward to reaching it, and moving past it, just another marker on my way to triple digits. Old? No, not yet. I’ll let you know when I get there!
