Truths: How old are we?

Its been an interesting week…It started when I went to look for a birthday card. I found myself drawn to the ones that hinted at old age. You know the ones that imply memory loss, falling body parts, incontinence? The ones with the wrinkly old ladies making jokes about how hot they are?

And I was laughing.

Kind of a sick laugh – half because they were funny and half because I could relate to them. My memory is getting little foggy but so far my bra holds me up and I haven’t started peeing in my pants (maybe just a little when I cough or laugh really hard – looking at cards that imply I am old).

But as I questioned my youth – I remembered just a few weeks ago when I found myself in the ER and not one but at least three people asked if I was still getting my period?

Huh?

I have been wishing for at least two years to not have it anymore – but when people suggested that I might no longer be getting it – I was actually proud to say yes! I mean do I look like I have survived menopause – do I really look that old?

And then as the past week progressed I was forced to account for the last 40 years of my life and how from the day we can speak sentences we are always eager to be the next year older… You certainly don’t see 30 somethings saying, “Actually, I am 30 and a half.”

But when we are 9 we want to be 10 and when we are 12 we want to be 13 and when we are 15 we want to be 16 so we can drive and when we are 17 we want to be 18 so we are adults and can vote and when we are 20 we want to be 21 so we can drink and when we are 24 we want to be 25 so we can rent a car…And it is about then we want to quit having birthdays.

And from 25 on – we celebrate milestone birthdays as though the parties themselves will erase any indicaton that we have become 30, or 40, or 50.

We find ourselves elated when someone asks for an ID when we buy liquor even though the sign behind the clerk reads, “We card EVERYONE!”

But then just as we are enjoying cloud 9 – we come home and our children say they are embarrassed because we are shopping at their stores. I say if they make it in my size – why can’t I wear it?

My parents just flew in and when they were waiting for their flight an airline attendant came up to them and asked if they were waiting for a wheelchair?

WOW, right? That’s certainly enough to send you over the edge… Though, I laughed my ass off!

I recently was over joyed when I went mother of the bride dress shopping and the dress consultants immediately took me to a different side of the store.

But it is a wave we ride – the wrinkles on our faces, the fact that our middle gets larger even after we run 3 miles a day…

Sometimes I think I married a much older man just so I could always feel younger… (not really – but there are times it adds to my confidence.)

We spend half our lives wanting to be that one year older – wanting what age brings us… freedom. Until one day we find ourselves old and realize our freedom has come and gone.

My grandma is on a slippery road right now… First it was congestive heart failure and now she is in the ICU and is suffering from pneumonia… Its not good.

I see her laying in a bed with a horrible mask on her face so she can breathe – and my heart breaks… the woman who prided herself on looking amazing and put together is nothing more than a frail body in an ugly hospital gown… and I know all she wants is to die.

Before she was admitted into the ICU yesterday she had spent a week in a nursing home and I was forced to look mortality in the face… All of these human beings asleep in wheel chairs in the hallway… basically awaiting for the inevitable.

For them, the hallmark cards aren’t even funny anymore.

We believe that age defines us – whether it be what we are capable of or what we no longer have – and in the end none of that really matters.

As the inevitable approaches my grandma is sane enough to talk about her belongings and if we are able to move her to an assisted living place – she said what she wanted to take along.. two little statues, some sparkly pins that I gave her and her three scrapbooks of pictures.

Wow, right?

All those years spent wanting to be old and then wanting to be young and all she wants now are a few things she could have had at any age.

I guess laughing at those cards is truly a blessing – finding humor in what age does to us – is a coping mechanism – denying that we are actually getting old is just a smokescreen for our fear of what comes next…

But in truth, aging is a natural process – no matter how we try to avoid it – it sneaks up on us… and instead of running from it – we need to find ways to embrace it – to look upon it with respect and to revel in its ultimatum… the alternative is not so glorious.

The wrinkles on our face are signs of the happiness and sorrow we have faced. The grey hair a reminder of the wisdom we have acquired. The fullness in our hearts the love we have experienced.

We get only one chance at this life we have – and as you watch someone come to the end of theirs – it seems rather unfortunate to realize you have spent much of your own worrying about how old you are.