Has it really been that long? My goodness, where does the time go? Isn’t that an age-old question?
Today on social media, a post from 10 years ago came up and it was the picture of a sweater I had knit for my then two-year-old grandson. You can do the math. Where does the time go? I took a little sabbatical from my writing and pondering and wonder if I was missed. Did you miss me? I missed sharing with you. I have not written anything now for quite some time. Where does the time go? So much can happen and yet, really, so little does happen.
In working with the aging, I am astounded at the many, many ways I hear this statement, “I never thought it would end like this.” How is it to end? When we refuse to think of our own death, the end is a shock in so many ways. We simply ask where the time goes without truly looking at the cold, hard truth that, yes, time has passed.
In working with the aging, I learn so many lessons. Just this past week I met a 92-year-old woman who was comfortable enough to share she lived her life as a lesbian. She was closeted for many of her beginning years. She told me of how, when she was in her early 20’s a friend tried to fix her up with a man. She declined and she said, “I think she was fishing!” and laughed with a glint in her eye. So much has changed and yet so little has changed for this community.
In working with the aging, I see how "old" is growing older. Just yesterday I watched as a woman of 102 toddled off the elevator to the nurses’ station to pick up her medications. If not for her hearing being less than great, she is in very good health. Death is near, and she respects it and yet she lives each day, taking it as it is given, as a gift. There are others who fight death right to the very end. I also just had a friend in her 60s, say to me, that dying petrifies her. She has no thoughts beyond this life and with that comes a fear of the future.
In working with the aging, people are afraid they will get sick and die. The realization for many is the “get sick” part can be years long and dying is the release. Many over 100 are just waiting for it, resolved to know it could be anytime. Many are not sick, just needing a little assistance. Why is that? Why do some suffer so, and others breeze their way into end of life?
Since my last ponderings I have become a grandmother again. Not only by birth, but by accumulation. I gained three new grandchildren and I love it. There is a set of twins and a beautiful step grandson who is amazing. How am I so blessed when the world seems so broken?
As I watched my baby twins arrive, all 4 lbs. 7 oz. of them, I was astounded at the beauty. The tiny life before me showing signs of life. When we are born there is fanfare and joy with no regard of from whence we came. Are there souls lamenting the newly born, left behind at the exit portal to grieve? As we die, we may lament, however, can we look ahead and wonder if there is someone/something at the end of the tunnel that is in marvel at this new soul being birthed once again, with human experience and stories to tell.
As I begin to write again and as I work with the aging at both ends of life, I watch, and I learn. When we are in the present there is so much to see. Take a moment, savour a breath, feel the breeze, smell the crispness of the air and know, it will end, and however it ends, whether you go kicking and screaming or with curiosity you will go beyond this life to whatever awaits.
Cynthia Breadner is a teacher, author, grief specialist and bereavement counsellor; a soul care worker and offers specialized care in spiritually integrated therapies. She works as a LTC chaplain assisting with end-of-life care for client and family. She is the mother part of the #DanCynAdventures duo and practices fitness, health and wellness. She is available remotely by safe and secure video connections, if you have any questions contact her today. [email protected] breakingstibah.com.
