Life is different these days. For a while I assumed I was just going through a temporary phase, one with a pervasive feeling of uncertainty. At times, I attributed my thoughts and feelings to covid, the virus that isolated us, affected every facet of our lives, and continues to be a suspicious cloud hovering over us. The time I spent alone during the period of covid isolation gave me — and so many others—days, weeks, and months to think without interruption.
The reality of my age, which is beyond the expected lifespan for an American female, was a dominant thought. Like many of my generation who are fortunate enough to live a long life, I realized that I know little about how to navigate this God-given time. There are no established rules to follow. The role models are few, and they are still learning.
My uncertain thoughts about aging aren’t entirely new. They’ve been in the background for a while, but I was too busy living without pause to stop and dwell on my time and place. It was covid that gave me months to face the present and consider the future.
During the solitude, I acknowledged that there are decisions I should make before I can’t, either because I’m incapacitated or because I have unexpectedly reached the end of my life. Some of the decisions are in the category of unfinished business, and others are loosely known as downsizing. The unfinished business is unemotional, a task I will and can do. It’s the downsizing that gives me greatest pause. I don’t know how; and, truthfully, I don’t want to prioritize my stuff, to decide what to keep and what to send away. Each object has meaning, deep meaning.
Downsizing, or simplifying, means parting with my memories, my lifetime, represented by tangible objects that are precious and dear to me: the first painting I bought from a gallery on Royal Street in New Orleans when I was a struggling new professor of nursing at Louisiana State University and all of the others I’ve added through the years; the collection of manger scenes including those I purchased in the Holy Land; the Big Five ebony wood carvings from Africa that remind me of the real animals I saw on safaris in that magical continent. And there is so much more.
The thought of parting with any item weighs heavily—almost too heavily. Looking at the big picture—at everything—and trying to decide what, if anything, to keep sucks the air out of my lungs.
Another aspect of this final period is timing: deciding when—to settle business affairs, to downsize, to age in place or move to a retirement community. The WHEN is as unknowable as the future. Guidelines are always framed with “according to the individual situation.” Scientists have norms and a sound knowledge base for earlier stages of life and can foresee with accuracy what the normal progression should be; but the predictions are not so clear and they are ever-changing for the oldest of the old. We are an ongoing study.
Adding to the gravity of all of these decisions is the knowledge that some of the choices once made cannot be undone without great cost and some simply cannot be voided. An inherent thought is that whatever we do, we do so with anticipation — not of a distant future but of an unknown end.
I must admit there is a sadness to all of this. I and my peers are dealing with loss, whether it be the loss of things, the loss of health, the loss of a body we once had, or the irreplaceable loss of loved ones.
I don’t have any answers for the issues we face; but I have some thoughts about making the most of our remaining time and, perhaps, lessening the gravity of our decisions:
1. Keep friends and make new ones. They are a vital part of life. At this stage, the youthful competitiveness is so far in the past it’s difficult to remember how painful it was. Petty jealousies are non-existent. Friends are softer, gentler, and more willing to lend a helping hand. We all need to give and receive compassionate fellowship.
2. Share with others lessons learned from life’s classroom and, hopefully, help them on their journey. Our experiences of joy and pain and what we learn from them are part of the universal human story. We are all in the common school of life.
3. Use God’s gifts, the unique talents, that no one else—past, present, or future—has had or will have. It is my belief that our gifts, our talents, are to be used in showing and sharing His unqualified love. It’s never too late to identify and use those gifts, and thereby give meaning to life.
Simply said, if we make a conscious and deliberate effort to engage in life with purpose, choosing to live beyond ourselves, one step and one moment at a time, then maybe, just maybe, this uncharted course and all of the decisions we face will be easier.
