An old friend from high school died last week. We weren't best buddies, but we sat at the same lunch table, laughed together, and she set me up on a date with her brother once. She was beautiful, fun, funny, silly. All the good things. When the call went out for short stories about her, I had none. Just a general impression of enjoying her company very much and wishing we'd stayed in touch. Some things about her life have been similar to mine. The late in life motherhood, for example. She leaves behind a 4 year old daughter which means she had that baby when she was 41 or 42.
She had a stroke a bit over a year ago. A minor one and then a major one. They left her debilitated and headed for rehabilitation. And then they found the cause of the strokes was clots thrown off by stage 4 lung cancer. She'd never smoked. (My yoga teacher tells me it's a minority of lung cancer victims who smoke.)
So there she is, an invalid, rehabilitating from a stroke and then undergoing chemo and radiation.
Her brother, (the one I dated) through all this, is hopeful. Looking for her to get better. And really, who wouldn't? She had everything to live for. Had given up the successful corporate career to run a flower shop downtown. By her side every day was her young daughter.
As we get older, more people our age will be dying. From one friend every 10 years to one every 5 years. One day it will stop being a shock. We will start reading the obituary page every morning to look for our friends (or whatever passes for the obituary page when newspapers also die soon).
As we age, the world around us will become less familiar. The music we liked in youth becomes oldies or classics. The sounds on “the radio” or whatever it is then sounds like noise. The ones of us who seem to maintain our youth are those who keep up with youth culture, not the familiar songs of our friends from high school and college.
In 100 years everyone we know will be gone. The music we listened to will likely not be listened to by anyone living anymore.
I think, for someone who lives to be 100 years old, that life becomes less appealing. The friends you knew are gone. The people who understand the things that got you so excited about life are gone. No one gets into your music. No one remembers how hot Brad Pitt was in Thelma and Louise. So you are more alone, even when you are with other people. The world becomes less fun.
I don't want anyone I know to die. I don't want to die myself. But in this middle age where I am I have a growing realization that there will be a time when I will know more people who were gone than people who are alive. This is when you'd miss talking to people who GOT where you were from – the inside jokes, the cultural references, that made you feel like you belonged where you were. When you got to this place in time, I think it would start to feel like dying was OK. Like you were going home.
She had a stroke a bit over a year ago. A minor one and then a major one. They left her debilitated and headed for rehabilitation. And then they found the cause of the strokes was clots thrown off by stage 4 lung cancer. She'd never smoked. (My yoga teacher tells me it's a minority of lung cancer victims who smoke.)
So there she is, an invalid, rehabilitating from a stroke and then undergoing chemo and radiation.
Her brother, (the one I dated) through all this, is hopeful. Looking for her to get better. And really, who wouldn't? She had everything to live for. Had given up the successful corporate career to run a flower shop downtown. By her side every day was her young daughter.
As we get older, more people our age will be dying. From one friend every 10 years to one every 5 years. One day it will stop being a shock. We will start reading the obituary page every morning to look for our friends (or whatever passes for the obituary page when newspapers also die soon).
As we age, the world around us will become less familiar. The music we liked in youth becomes oldies or classics. The sounds on “the radio” or whatever it is then sounds like noise. The ones of us who seem to maintain our youth are those who keep up with youth culture, not the familiar songs of our friends from high school and college.
In 100 years everyone we know will be gone. The music we listened to will likely not be listened to by anyone living anymore.
I think, for someone who lives to be 100 years old, that life becomes less appealing. The friends you knew are gone. The people who understand the things that got you so excited about life are gone. No one gets into your music. No one remembers how hot Brad Pitt was in Thelma and Louise. So you are more alone, even when you are with other people. The world becomes less fun.
I don't want anyone I know to die. I don't want to die myself. But in this middle age where I am I have a growing realization that there will be a time when I will know more people who were gone than people who are alive. This is when you'd miss talking to people who GOT where you were from – the inside jokes, the cultural references, that made you feel like you belonged where you were. When you got to this place in time, I think it would start to feel like dying was OK. Like you were going home.
I'm thinking about my grandparents in this context. They still have each other, though my grandmother's mind is gone so I guess not really. But my grandfather still has his friends, and his opinions, and his family, few that they are. I'm not sure old age is so isolating. But then of course it is, when you are constrained by physical limitations and waiting for young people to find time to do things for you. But what's the alternative?
I've only had one friend die--from cancer, very fast. She was 19.
Posted by: Antropologa | July 14, 2010 at 12:35 PM
A few months ago I decided to try and locate an old high school friend, only to learn he'd died 10 years ago, in his late 30s, from some f%¢ked up illness. Then today I was driving along and was struck by the thought that in 3 decades I'd likely be either dead or in an institution. I feel like I just got out of high school. But that was 30 years ago. Ack!
Posted by: Charlie | July 25, 2010 at 10:12 PM