My great-uncle Floyd who is 88 emailed this to me.
Subject: Getting Old
The other day a young person asked me how I felt about being old.
I was taken aback, for I do not think of myself as old. Upon seeing my reaction, she was immediately embarrassed, but I explained that it was an interesting question, and I would ponder it, and let her know.
Old age, I decided, is a gift. I am now, probably for the first time in my life, the person I have always wanted to be. Oh, not my body! I sometime despair over my body-the wrinkles, the baggy eyes, skin spots and bumps, and the sagging butt. And often I am taken aback by that old person that lives in my mirror, but I don't agonize over those
things for long.
I would never trade my amazing friends, my wonderful life, my loving family for less gray hair or a flatter belly. As I've aged, I've become more kind to myself, and less critical of myself. I've become my own friend. I don't chide myself for eating that extra cookie, or
for not making my bed, or for buying that silly cement fountain that I didn't need, but looks so avant garde on my patio.
I am entitled to overeat, to be messy, to be extravagant. I have seen too many dear friends leave this world too soon; before they understood the great freedom that comes with aging.
Whose business is it if I choose to read until 4 AM, and sleep until noon? I will dance with myself to those wonderful tunes of the 70's, and if I at the same time wish to weep over a lost love, I will. I will walk the beach in a swim suit that is stretched over a bulging
body, and will dive into the waves with abandon if I choose to, despite the pitying glances from the bikini set. They, too, will get old.
I know I am sometimes forgetful. But there again, some of life is just as well forgotten -- and I eventually remember the important things.
Sure, over the years my heart has been broken. How can your heart not break when you lose a loved one, or when a child suffers, or even when a beloved pet gets hit by a car? But broken hearts are what give us strength and understanding and compassion. A heart never broken is pristine and sterile and will never know the joy of being imperfect.
I am so blessed to have lived long enough to have my hair turn gray or even lost forever, and to have my youthful laughs be forever etched
into deep groove on my face. So many have never laughed, and so many have died before their hair could turn silver. I can say "no," and mean it. I can say "yes," and mean it. As you get older, it is easier to be positive. You care less about what other people think.
I don't question myself anymore. I've even earned the right to be wrong.
So, to answer your question, I like being old. It has set me free. I like the person I have become. I am not going to live forever, but while I am still here, I will not waste time lamenting what could have been, or worrying about what will be.
And I shall eat dessert every single day.
Years ago, when a friend was bemoaning the fact that she had just turned 40, she was dumbfounded when I told her to "Be happy and rejoice". She asked me "Why should I be 'happy' about growing old?" Instead of asking her "What is the alternative?" my answer was "Now, you can do anything YOU want to do or say, and others will excuse it by saying 'she's just an old broad'. LOL
HERE, HERE. But I'll never let my gray show through.
Love that e-mail from your great-uncle - and I copied it and sent it out to everyone I know.
Thanks for a great read on getting old ~~ and I should know, I'm there!