Hardly a morning goes by that I don't stop and realize that each day is, indeed, one step closer to the grave. I try to remember, first thing out of bed, to thank God for another day, because I don't have that many days left, although sometimes it takes two cups of coffee before I get around to thanking Him.
I will be seventy in July. Wow, that sounds so old! It seems even older when someone in his early-to-mid-seventies dies. A local man died yesterday, one who was a member of the church I attend. He was seventy-five. Maybe because he has children the age of mine, or maybe because I saw him and his wife at church on Sundays, but today I am truly reminded of my own mortality.
When Cliff and I make plans to do things, we often talk about the possibility that we might not be around to fulfill those plans. These days when I'm re-subscribing to one of Cliff's antique tractor magazines, I seldom do it for more than two years ahead. It's a roll of the dice whether we'll be around.
Some family members don't like to hear me and my husband talking like this. Well, they can stick their heads in the sand if they want to, but I like facing reality. Cliff and I have no problem at all with these discussions.
Yesterday we were discussing a topic that concerned what might happen to this property in ten years, and I said, "Cliff, do you realize how slim the chances are that we will both still be alive in ten years?"
"You're right," he said. "We're on our way out."
And you, dear readers, may not know it, but so are you. You just don't realize it until the end looms ahead and friends and relatives are dying around you with increasing frequency. When that happens, there is no way of denying it.
They say now that 70 is the new 50. I sure wish I felt like I did at 50. None of us knows just how long we'll be around. I really never expected to live this long, but in March I turned 70. I too am thankful every day when I get up. I consider every day a blessing for sure.
ReplyDeleteI get it. I too feel like everyday could be my last. Since my Mom died at the age of 52, (when I was 28), I have always known my days are numbered. I wish I didn't think about it so much. Some days I wish I could stick my head in the sand because it makes me sad to think about the things I will possibly miss seeing. My Mother only got to know one of her grandkids, she has 5. They would have brought her tremendous joy.
ReplyDeleteYep, you just never know. And some don't make it anywhere near 70. Thomas and I are approaching early retirement age, so we've had a few discussions like this, and I recently made sure both the kids know what my wishes are after I die. I'm not in any hurry, mind you, but it's a good idea to keep it in mind. I hope you and Cliff stick around for many more years to come though.
ReplyDeleteMy hubby turns 75 this fall, so we've had the same discussions. You just have to take things one day at a time.
ReplyDeleteYou know that I understand this on a very personal level: I had younger brothers die when they were 16 and 23, then lost Patt when he was only 59. Carpe diem-seize the day. We never know what is down the road.
ReplyDeleteI met a traveller from an antique land
ReplyDeleteWho said: `Two vast and trunkless legs of stone
Stand in the desert. Near them, on the sand,
Half sunk, a shattered visage lies, whose frown,
And wrinkled lip, and sneer of cold command,
Tell that its sculptor well those passions read
Which yet survive, stamped on these lifeless things,
The hand that mocked them and the heart that fed.
And on the pedestal these words appear --
"My name is Ozymandias, king of kings:
Look on my works, ye Mighty, and despair!"
Nothing beside remains. Round the decay
Of that colossal wreck, boundless and bare
The lone and level sands stretch far away.'
Losing my brother at age 54 sure woke me up to what can happen at any time. There are five of us siblings and he was the youngest, the oldest being 70. We never thought he would be the first to go.
ReplyDelete