Sunday was my birthday number 75 (gulp!). I can hardly even admit it
I celebrated my birthday this weekend. My 75th birthday! I can hardly bear to write it because 75 sounds, well, old!
Maybe that’s because it is.
Rather than deny my advance (or is it slide?) toward 80, though, I’ve decided to pause and take stock of my life from this crossroads. And it is a crossroads. I don’t think I’ve arrived. But I’m learning. I’ve made some decisions about the years ahead in light of my experience with life so far. For example . . . .
Seize the day
One evening years ago we invited two widows from our church to join us for dinner. Before we got to the table, I was telling one of them about a trip Evelyn and I were planning. Our friend listened quietly, looked me straight in the eye, and said softly, “Go while you can.”
We did, and I’m so glad. And today I’m still traveling. I seldom go alone, although even with others I sometimes feel lonely. But I’d feel more lonely staring at the walls in my living room. So I’m going while I can.
The principle applies to more than travel. It’s not too late for me to learn some Spanish or read that book on my shelf I’ve been ignoring. I still have time to encourage a friend, support a worthy cause, try a new recipe, or learn something about the world around me.
In fact, free time is the gift of a retiree, especially someone responsible only to himself and God for how he uses his days. I feel challenged not to fritter the days away.
Embrace change
I’m realizing I have only two choices when it comes to change: resist and resent it, or look for the positives.
It’s certain we can’t pretend the world all around us is not changing—technologically, spiritually, culturally, geopolitically. But even without all that, 70-somethings experience change, because we inhabit bodies not meant to last forever. Every one of my senior citizen friends—not to mention many who are younger—deals with some health issue. Replacing joints. Keeping their heart beating and their digestive tract unclogged. Fighting cancer or recovering from the fight. Spending hundreds and thousands of dollars just to see and hear.
And when disease destroys a decades-long relationship, it’s impossible to feel good about the changes.
This blog has been my attempt to acknowledge the devastating losses while discovering how not to be destroyed by them. This post is my claim that I’m anticipating the future even while grieving the present. It’s a balancing act that becomes more successful with practice.
Get help
Today I know I could not cope alone, but at first I tried. I winced the first time my friend called me a caregiver. I told myself we didn’t really need in-home help—not once, but three times—when someone recommended another professional caregiver who could come lighten our load.
Before Evelyn moved and since then, friends have invited, fed, and listened. They have gone to see Evelyn where she’s living now, visits that encourage me far more than her. They have shared medical expertise and handyman help. They have told me they’re proud of me.
How could I have coped without all of this? I can’t imagine.
Care for yourself
Soon after I hired our first at-home helper, she told me the visiting caregiver’s relationship with the patient is stronger if the primary caregiver is out of the house. At first the notion made me uncomfortable. But it wasn’t long until I looked forward to those Tuesday afternoons writing and editing at the library, taking a walk, choosing someplace special for lunch, or running errands. One day I went to a movie.
I came to realize that self-care isn’t selfish. Eventually Evelyn would have suffered if I had heroically believed I must sacrifice everything to take care of her. I would have crashed and burned, and she would not have known how to save me.
Admittedly, moving her was good for me. I’m healthier in every way now that I’m not burdened with her care, but that’s not the most important factor. Evelyn is secure and content where she’s living now in a way she could not be at home with me. And I’m glad. Caring for myself has freed me to find the best care for her.
Forget religion
I’m discovering that religion doesn’t satisfy in the long haul. Faith has a way of changing with age. Most of my friends think differently today than 20 years ago about how to live for God. They still believe in him and want to worship him. They try to obey him, but they are seeking something more meaningful than habit. They’re not particularly religious, but they’re pursuing faith as never before.
Me too. I’ve wrestled with God as I’ve stumbled through this journey, but his hand of blessing has been too sure for me to deny him.
I’ve certainly experienced encouragement and nurture in the church. It has provided support, but I know I need more than support. It’s a nice place with good people and pleasant experiences, but much of that is available at the local YMCA or book club. I need more.
I need the God of the universe—marvelously creative, immeasurably powerfuI, and always available. He’s proven he loves me, and he alone deserves my worship. I seek him, and I’m awestruck to see how he shows up. It’s not about religion but about retooling my home and heart to open myself to his presence.
Although I often falter, with him is the best way to walk. At age 75 this is the most important discovery of all.