On turning 80

 

Today is my last day being 79.

I have always thought of 80+ as old. I mean old. Gray hair, baggy stockings, black shoes that tie and have thick heels about one or two inches high, doilies on the back of their chairs and shawls around their shoulders. As the Jacques Brel lyric says, "Their homes smell of time."

I should know better. My parents were in a retirement community and the "old" people were off to golf, the sale at K-Mart, and if not lunch at least the early bird special in late afternoon. Their homes were modern and cheerful. There was a certain amount of visiting Herb, Vi, June, Sven or whoever was in the hospital for this or that. Tuesday morning coffees in the community clubhouse had posters for funeral homes.

One of the sad things, I've found, no matter how optimistic I am, the list of friends that are no more: Bill J, Bill V, Marvin, Rosie, Gary, Glenn, Barbara, Mary B, Mardy, etc., etc., etc. No one will come off that list. It will grow. I get a message and sit in shock when I hear a new name. My husband comes in and puts his arms around me as I cry. I don't want to get good at losing people I care about, but it will happen again and again.

I remember my high school classmates still alive and realize they are the same age I am, with the same limitations. Despite reunions every decade or so, I think of them as we were as we walked (not ran) in the high school hall. The building has been replaced. 

The French refer to this stage of life as the Troisème Age -- third age. I think I've managed it well. At one time I wondered if I would be one of those people who retired with plans but only lived a few days, weeks or months after retirement. Seventeen years of freedom to start and close a business, write, travel and fall in love has been a huge gift.

I definitely did not want to be in a retirement community. I wanted to be with people of many ages. I want to hear children playing on the street. I also have been lucky, because I also want to be surrounded by people of different nationalities and different languages.

This I've done with our primary residence in a Geneva Switzerland suburban village and a second village in the South of France. They are not retirement communities, but places that have existed for hundreds of years. Even our French home is over 400 years old. I only wish the beams could talk to me and tell me of other people or maybe animals who were there over the centuries.

I find myself looking back on my life and thinking, I reached my three most important goals but not necessarily in that order:

1. Have a daughter
2. Live in Europe
3. Be a writer

I didn't necessarily get them the way I wanted or when I wanted, but bit by bit I accomplished them. For example, although I've managed to live in Europe and take Swiss citizenship, my plans of being fluent in many languages when I lived in Europe never happened. I've settled for functional in French and shopping German.

I find myself more and more thinking of the past, taking out the good memories examining them and then shoving them back. I'm so grateful for the life I've lived.

This doesn't mean it was perfect. A bad marriage, some health issues, financial worries from time to time were a contrast to the good times that made the good even better.

It took me until 71 to find my soul mate, and that wasn't even a goal. He has made what was a really wonderful life even more so.

As a kid, I dreamed of investigating other places and I've visited most of those I wanted and some I never thought. As a kid, I never thought of visiting Damascus, but pre-civil war, I went several times and developed a family of choice. Someday, hopefully I'll be able to sit in one of their living rooms nibbling on seeds and drinking maté. I've eaten a bit of an iceberg and visited a penis museum in Iceland (not in my plans prior to the trip, but it was there, I was there and why not?)

One of my girlfriend's father said that he didn't believe a little girl from Reading did some of the things I did. Some times, I don't believe it either.

I've met people of all different nationalities and positions. I still don't believe in my role as a journalist, I've talked to world leaders. It still amazes me that I appeared before Congress. I've fought for things I've believed, mainly women's and peace issues, yet despite a large number of demonstrations, I've never been arrested. YET. 

My soul mate and I are making plans for more travel, Garmish, Pompeii, Scotland (again), Nova Scotia and who knows where else.

Good health is never guaranteed, but as one ages, the chance of illness can increase. Okay, so I'm an Amazon woman with one breast, the other removed. That was okay. It wanted to kill me and it failed. And a bit of arthritis in various joints hurts. Since I've never been sporty any limitations are only minor annoying.

Vanity plays a part. I went from being me to looking like my mother, than my grandmother. I'm happy with my gray hair. I'm grateful, I haven't put on major pounds. I don't like my veined hands or the wrinkles in my skin.

I have more books I want to write. More conversations I want to have, more sunrises and sunsets, more good food to eat, more music to listen to, more books to read, more of everything that makes life a joy. I hope for good health, but I know whatever happens I will make the best of it. I have many good memories of chemo both with the wonderful nursing staff and how it cemented my relationship with my husband. I hope he never has to care for me like that again, but if he does, I will do everything in my power to be a good patient.

And if it is him? We never took the vow in sickness and health, but it is there.

No matter what age we are, we never know what the future holds, not just long term but the next hour, day, week... 

At 80, statistically, the future will not be the same length as it was at 20, 40, 60. I'm reminded every day to make the moment count.