Aging is complicated. I often speak about positive aging, about the good stuff that comes with age if we’re not too fearful to appreciate it. But the fact is, a lot of the good happens in your brain. The two hemispheres begin to communicate better. You can solve complex problems in a snap using pattern recognition. You’re not as affected by drama. You’re more calm, maybe even happier. Strange how the aging brain seems to get stronger.
On the other hand, the body falls apart.
Mom’s sharp and curious and funny, but her body is wearing down. As you probably remember, she did a back flip off a friend’s porch seven years ago and broke her femur. It was a horrendous break. They put a rod in. The bone has never healed. She has pain from that, as well as a knee that needs replacement, but she’s too fragile to have the surgery. She has ice and heating pads and braces and drugs and therapy…but nothing helps very much. And then there’s the other stuff, like the expected outcome of having been a serious sun worshiper in her youth. Her mobility is declining. She’s slow and getting slower. Everything hurts.
Yet she perseveres.
Some days she suffers. Others, she’s happy and life seems more normal. When she feels well enough, she has lunch with friends. She drives herself to Mass every Sunday. She shops for groceries and runs errands around town. She hauls her lightweight walker out of the back seat of her tiny little Yaris and chugs into the store. Some days she can’t do anything, feeling too worn down. She might cancel her plans due to pain. Maybe she didn’t sleep well. And we’re just talking physical challenges. The existential can be worse.
And perseveres.
Mom demonstrates resilience. She doesn’t get worked up over politics or family drama anymore. She’s seen it all and knows things will work out one way or the other. She treasures visits from her great-grands. They’re so plainspoken and funny, not knowing yet how to be diplomatic. She putters around her garden, very small now, nothing like the half-acre she loved when my dad was alive. She talks to him. We all do. He’s been gone ten years.
Mom’s birthday surprise: a visit from my brother and his son.
She’s teaching us to keep going.
She watches the news, knits, colors, cooks, refills her hummingbird feeder. She reads the paper with a cup of coffee every morning. She drives herself to the mailbox at the end of the street. She fights with her cable provider. You know, living a normal life.
She uses the tools at her disposal, without letting ego get in the way.
First she needed a cane, then a walker. She has handlebars around the bathroom commode. She wears a life alert bracelet. Bill takes out her trash every other Wednesday, and gasses up her car when it gets to half a tank. We bring her dinners when we make too much. Which is often. She’s gracious.
She doesn’t let fear rule her life.
Mom is just one fall away from disaster. I can feel it coming, like the barometer dropping in a tornado zone. But Mom keeps truckin’. She’s not ready to give up. She says she wants to “see what’s going to happen.” She reminds me that life is a mystery, a story, a novel unfolding page by page.
She controls what she can.
I live four blocks away from Mom. Much of what lies ahead will fall to me and my husband to manage. So it’s important to know what she wants. Although she likes being able to mull things over with us kids, Mom will make up her own mind. Yesterday I spoke with a sibling about a Mom-decision, and Sib balked. She complained at length, then asked what I thought.
I said, very gently, it doesn’t matter what I think or you think. What matters is what Mom thinks. And then I fell silent and let that sink in, because it’s the truth. This is a lesson, too. Letting people run their own lives.
The number one lesson Mom is teaching me now.
Life can be stupid, weird, cruel. After watching it play out for almost a century, Mom is teaching me to roll with the punches. You do the best you can and keep looking ahead. “What can you do?” she says. “You’re here. You’re alive.” And as blunt as that sounds, it frees me. I’ll enjoy the good and soldier through the bad. Instead of moaning about getting old, I’ll appreciate being a healthy 64 with all the mobility and health that I’m lucky enough to have. I’m savoring every day. Life is beautiful.
Winery patio, central valley, California
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And while you’re enjoying life, how about a free book?
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Key Largo Blues will be FREE this weekend, from Friday through Monday (August 3 through 7, 2018). During that time, you can download your copy from Amazon by clicking here, or click on the book.
Actually, I do have an ulterior motive. Forgive me, but I’m trolling for reviews! I have 29 and I’d love to ease past 30. My average is 4.9 out of 5 stars so I’m off to a good start.
But folks are so busy these days, it’s hard to get ’em to leave a review. So I’ll make it easy. You hardly have to do anything!
1. Click on the book to go to its page on Amazon.
2. Click on the number of stars you want to give it.
3. Put in a title. (Good Book, or Loved It, or A Great Read, for example).
4. And then write maybe a five word review. (Would read it again, or Liked catching up with the CRS Ladies, or Made me want to go to Florida, or Fun to read about people in midlife).
That’s it! So easy.
And if you’ve already read it and wouldn’t mind dropping off a review, that’d be great, too!
Not like I’m begging or anything.
Okay, that’s it for today. Back to the hamster wheel. I look forward to your comments. Stay cool and enjoy your summer.
Thanks for reading.
Beautiful post Lynne. I can see where you get your perseverance and spunk. I found so much useful advice here in helping care for my dad as he ages and becomes less and less physically able to do things for himself. Like your mom, he keeps trying to stay upright and do what he can on the good days. My sister and I managed to get him up to cabin in Wisconsin where it seems the danger of a fall is lurking around everywhere, but every minute he has here in nature fuels his soul with joy.
That’s the thing, Pat. Their lives are their own, regardless of how worried we are. Do I want to keep her from going to the grocery store or church on Sunday, or just grit my teeth and hope nobody knocks her down? Etc, etc. Well, it’s not my call. It’s her life. All I can do is hope when it’s her time, she keels over in the pew and meets her Maker right there.
I really like the fact that you are treating your mom as an individual with opinions and viewpoints all her own. I applaud you and hope others will take inspiration from your example.
She is strong but can get railroaded or overruled by younger, more energetic folks, so I’m on guard to make sure she can be heard. Sometimes it takes a bit longer, but she’s always clear-minded and pretty sure of herself. Thanks for stopping by, Paul.
What a wonderful post. Sometimes we get caught up with life without appreciating what we have in front of us. When the “very elderly” people start to degenerate, their brain changes sometimes but their heart is as big as ever. I love the positive vibe you’re reflecting through your story.
Thanks, Thomas. She is a treasure. We’re all lucky to have her. The great-grands are exultant over the fact that they’re almost as tall as she is (4′ 10.5″).
Hi Lynne! Your mom sounds like my kind of woman! Forward-looking and curious…so much better IMHO then spending a lot of time thinking about what used to be or what we used to have. Things change. ALWAYS. 🙂 Learning to both live with and embrace possibilities instead of potential problems is a key for my version of positive aging. That doesn’t mean that sometimes we won’t find ourselves in tough and challenging places–but it does mean that we will keep our face to the sun no matter what! And yes, you are VERY lucky to still have her around showing you how to age in such a good way. ~Kathy
She is like you, very practical and forward-looking, Kathy.
It’s all so true. Just roll with the punches, live each day, don’t sweat the small stuff. I love your writing. So crisp.
Thanks, Pat. Always good to hear from you.
Letting Mom make her own decisions is so important, but so frequently overlooked. We always think we know what’s best for our very old parents. I admire you and your sibling for allowing her to be as independent as she can possibly be at this stage. It’s tough, but it’s the wisest choice!
Diane, one of the most heartfelt / difficult decisions lately was when she was updating her advance health care directive recently. She had to think about the Resuscitate/Don’t question. It took her about 2 weeks to decide DNR. I didn’t mention the directive during that time (forgot we were working on it), and that turned out to be good, because she was mulling it over. Mulling included dealing with a bit of depression over the question. Finally she decided DNR. What courage. How sad and difficult.
Your mom has such a positive attitude. She’s my heroine! Thank you for sharing her wise perspective.
Mine too, Sandy!
Lovely post. Worrying about that barometer in that tornado zone might add wrinkles. Don’t forget some wise old person once said worry doesn’t solve anything. Your mom is lucky to have such a wonderful daughter.
And we’re lucky to have her.