Do you really want to know what aging is like? Aging is about loss—ongoing loss. It makes sense since this is how we prepare for the ultimate loss of ourselves, our bodies, and everything that is inside and out. We prepare by more and more loss while living.
I am 89—that’s old by anyone’s standards. In my 70s and early 80s, aging was a gradual process. Though I began to have more physical problems, I was still able to travel and engage in projects that had meaning for me. Those old people who needed help crossing the street or used canes or walkers had nothing to do with me. But it feels like there is an invisible line I crossed and I can’t say what age or event heralded it, but it was a shock to realize that I could no longer do the things I used to take for granted—walk two miles, travel to Europe (and sometimes I don’t even want to anymore) or dance around the living room to Credence Clearwater. My body has become unreliable—in the morning I feel normal and have some energy and in the afternoon I am exhausted and have no interest in anything or vice versa. My body seems to have a body or a mind of its own and pays little attention to what I want or how I try to manipulate my physical state with exercise, healthy food, adequate sleep. Though these are positive steps and they sometimes help, there are no guarantees. I can sleep a very restful night and be exhausted the afternoon after. A lot more of my time is spent at the doctor’s office or I should say doctors’ offices. I have become an expert in the various specialists in my town. Because my body has become a sometimes hostile stranger, I have fears that I never had before. Fears I might fall, fears that something will go wrong with me when I am away from home . Home holds the illusion of safety. Fears of strange symptoms that might mean something serious is wrong.
I am now living in a CCRC where everyone is old so there are previews of what lies ahead. The experiences I just described are shared by many other residents —-their version of them. We hear there is something called “aging gracefully.” I’m not sure what that is. Perhaps there is a way to accept this unanticipated decline which I haven’t yet discovered.
If someone had told me about this aging experience when I was in my 70s, I’m not sure whether I could have taken it in. Can I take in anything I have never experienced? After all, this whole business is about dying and no one knows what that is like. All we know is that it definitely happens and we vanish never to be seen again. No one knows where we go or what happens. Even though life is unknown at every moment most of us don’t let ourselves know that, but there is no denying that death is truly the unknown.
I’m not painting a pretty picture, but happily I still enjoy a perfect sunny day (if I feel well), hearing beautiful music, learning new skills, my meditation practice, having a meaningful conversation, and, of course, a really good laugh and mostly the love of family and friends and my kitty cat.
This is what I report at 89. I would have written a somewhat different piece at 87, so what will I experience and write at 90? 91? (if I’m still here) Life has always been “Que Sera, Sera.” Most of us thought we had more to do with how it went than we probably did, but now the veil is lifted and it really is “Que Sera, Sera.”
Peggy Braun is a psychotherapist, photographer, printmaker and writer who lives in the Berkshires (Western MA). She is now exploring the end phase of life from spiritual, emotional and physical points of view. She hopes to stay alive long enough to do justice to her own experience and would gladly report on what happens afterwards, but, so far, she hasn’t been able to figure out how to do that.
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Love your straightforward reporting. I'm finding a real affinity for the brown, dried-up leaves and vines now that high fall has passed. I'm looking at them as exemplars of aging and dying off. It feels comforting to see with my own eyes how natural this is.
Very sweet message for my 75, going on 76 soon, heart to take in, as I am able. Some of what's been said here applies to me already. Sharing our aging stories helps in mysterious ways that bring connection and gratitude. Thank you for publishing this!