Do you remember that adage about the “golden years”? My father used to speak of that in terms of retirement. The idea that after a life of hard work, one would be able to enjoy life, play, have fun and relax as a reward perhaps.
Recent studies show that young adults in their 20s and 30s are more depressed and have more anxiety than those adults in their late sixties and older. It turns out that older adults are just happier.
There are many layers and perspectives on this, however. I was challenged recently by a friend who was complaining about how she did not expect to spend her retirement years at so many doctor’s appointments, that she hated to wake up in the morning stiff and wondering about how many years she had left to live.
According to Google, 65 years of age is considered the onset of the “golden years” (although the Urban Dictionary adds that this is also known as “over the hill”—I love the Urban Dictionary!).
It turns out the “golden years” shift as we cope with health concerns and eventually, the end of life. I say the message would be that we should enjoy our good health as much as we can AND plan for the time when those times are gone. It is almost inevitable that this cycle will come; it is part of being human.
As a doula, I see many variations on how people cope with recognizing the end of life approaching even as they enjoy the golden time in which there is such sweetness. My current favorite is the patient we were just discussing at our doula meeting. She is 102 and would like doula services but she participates in every single activity at the nursing home and so can only fit a visit in before Bingo on Sunday morning. Such vibrancy is to be envied; it is also a bit unusual and therefore we celebrate it–partially because not all of us get that.
The cases which are the most poignant are those who cannot adapt to the bitterness of disintegrating health and relationships ending with death. They cannot recognize the shortness of time. They will not do any planning, a health care directive, a will. I have had to learn to be patient; this is a path which each person must do on their own, and if things are going to be missed, that too, is a part of their journey. My job as a doula is to be with them in THEIR place and to walk with them.
Of course, I would like to suggest that we do it all—live robustly and plan. In his book Let’s Talk about Death (Over Dinner), Michael Hebb challenges us in saying that when we talk about our own mortality and that of our loved ones, that we are talking about life. “Death is the great mirror” he says. And that is really what we are all seeking, is it not? Making the best of our remaining days and years in whatever way we define “best.” Seeking to drink in each opportunity for connection and curiosity. It is more likely that we get that if we intentionally examine the whole life, including our death.
May Sarton said it beautifully:
And now, as the fruit gathers
All the riches of summer
Into its compact world,
I feel richer than ever before,
And breathe a larger air.
I am not ready to die,
But I am learning to trust death
As I have trusted life.
I am moving
Toward a new freedom
Born of detachment,
And a sweeter grace—
Learning to let go.
It is in letting go that we receive so much. I wish that for all of us.