I notice elderly people a lot. Maybe it's because I've passed the mid-century mark and know I am moving into the later stages of life or maybe it is because my children have moved out of the house; whatever the reason, elderly people catch my eye. Sometimes they are shrunk within a wheelchair being shuttled by a caregiver in white uniform through a grocery store. Sometimes they are vibrant and laughing and getting a Starbucks coffee in front of me. Sometimes they are dying and the subject of attention of my friends or colleagues as their loved ones' lives slip away. Sometimes they are walking arm in arm in my neighborhood 'for exercise' or on holiday 'for fun'. I saw Jack LaLanne on television recently celebrating his 95th birthday with 95 push-ups and 95 sit-ups. Sometimes they are sitting alone in a nursing home, sad and suffering, just 'ready to go'.
When I see the elderly I often think about them as children, adolescents, mothers and fathers, business leaders, artists, persons with youthful skin, vibrant laughter and a hunger for life. Then I see them falling into categories - happy and curious, content and blissful, comfortable, struggling, frightened, angry and grasping. While physical discomfort, illness, memory loss, and other ailments affect their outlook, most of all I notice that their attitude toward life seems to shape how they move toward death.
It is as if there are two orientations of attitude that can be described by a metaphor of a funnel. One view in life is looking through the funnel from the narrow side out - this group of elderly seems to share an expansion of view as they age - an openness, a widening of thought, an increasing curiosity. They appreciate life and are curious to see patterns, connect dots of their experiences with that of others across the landscape of life's experiences. The other group of elderly seem to view life through the other end of the funnel, instead of expanding with age - they seem to contract, to narrow their view, to become more and more focused on a self-oriented view of things, with diminishing curiosity. They become less interested in the world and more focused on what is affecting them.
It is an interesting dichotomy - one group seems to open with age, the other seems to close. With openness, it seems that death is much less frightening as if it is merely another viewpoint of sorts. With the closing of view, death looms large. I think it is analogous to a landscape painting. If the landscape is vast, one tree is but a blip on the horizon; if the landscape is narrow a single tree can consume the canvas.
Perhaps wisdom is the exuberance of youth seen through the widening lens of age, a broad, open perspective on the landscape of life. When one opens with age, exuberance arises because discovery abounds. This discovery requires no movement of sorts, it unfolds from within, from an endless expanse of curiosity and novelty in everyday experiences.
In death approached from this stance of wisdom, fear of the unknown seems to have little space to grow.
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My mom on the the other hand is 78 and stays in her house all the time. She has no friends (never had many during her life come to think of it) and waits for her children to visit her. She doesn't want to go out and go shopping for fun or eat lunch out. She is skeptical of everything new, especially technology and always talks about life in the past. She keeps her house thermostat at 55 in the winter and hardly spends a penny unless it's for food. She is scared to death of getting the swine flu and uses that as an excuse to not leave her house.
I plan to live life like my dad.
Dad finished a project and accept another only an hour before he died taking care of his flower garden.
Mom put in her short daily shift, stopped by the beauty shop, and had time to drink a glass of wine with me and a friend shortly before she died reading a book in her favorite spot in the garden.
I hope am able to enjoy life as they did if I manage their longevity, and hope when I go it is quick, easy and painless as it was for them.
My mother at 87 on the other hand appears to be pulling back from life. Withdrawing into herself, not really willing to be very social other than with a couple of close friends and family. I read a very helpful article by a hospice nurse, Denys Cope, who wrote about the process of dying. My mother suffered from depression. My sense is that she is on some level coming to terms with those painful experiences as she prepares to "pass over".
In my middle age, I am conscious of the value of maintaining an open attitude and being expansive towards life. I hope I have the courage to age disgracefully, becoming truer to myself and enjoying more than ever before the latter half of this journey.
Dad died the hospice route. Around family, in his son's home, pain was managed with sensitivity. Enough so he was lucid enough to say his goodbyes to all of us and at moments was even able to chat and laugh. What a difference! I know which way I will be leaving this earth.
You have perfectly articulated the thing that I find so profound about aging and dying. Something about the passing of time on individuals just slays me -- I usually can't stand sappy movies, but ones that deal with aging and lost youth, like The Notebook, turn me into a blubbering fool even as I realize it's not really that great of a movie. The sentiment behind it is what affects me.
I don't recall who said that life consists of holding two opposing maxims in tandem,set your life as if you'll live forever but live today as if it's your last.
We never want to be in touch with reality especially when we are young, full of zest and energy. But this is a reality we have to face. We have to accept change; to live around it and not fight it. We learn to fly around gravity but we cannot defy it. Something we learn to let go and grow old gracefully. When we are young we must treat elders with respect and talk to them more. Old people are not a burden on our wings there are the reason why we exist. Peace.
thanks
plus, you discovered some deeper connection to yourself in how you cared for them - it's clear from your last line - "I know I am" that somehow through the process of letting go of your parents, you seem to have discovered a never-ending sort of love - for yourself, your brother and the world at large.....
She is neither ill nor depressed; quite the opposite - her days are filled with activities and civic duties.
What she said was that she wants to know how it is going to feel.
My only question to her was this: what will she do with that knowledge?
Won't it be too late to tell me - or anyone else - about that experience?
He was struck by polio (in the 1950s) and lived in an Iron Lung and as a quadriplegic for his life....yet, he discovered the secret of 'wellbeing' despite his 'disability'.....he wrote
"When a person sees those aspects of the world that are affirmative, those things he can do that are of value, he experiences a state of health. When on the other hand he views the world from the standpoint of what he cannot do, he is disabled regardless of his physical disability”
even in facing death, we have such choice....