Aging is somethng most people do not like to talk about, but face it folks, we all face each and every day. As a matter of fact, immediately after letting out that first scream we begin that process and it continues until we draw last breath. That probably sounds very morbid or something like that, but as I approach my 68th year, those things jump out at me more often.
I do not fear death. The thing about death is that it frees someone from all of life's troubles, pains, sorrows and whatever else may burden them and allows them access to a new life that is eternal. These are based on the condition that your are a saved sinner. Non-Christians don't have that to look forward to.
Death is a breaking of life long relationships and that is the sad part. Those left behind find a deep void that cannot be filled. Usually the grief is from a deep longing for the person that has gone and missing all the time you had together. And another thing, with death most unhappy memories no longer exists. You only remember those happy times and that helps to soothe the hurt. And time does ease the hurt; it doesn't eliminate it.
How did I get on this tangent? I was going to do aging. Oh well, I guess the two are very closely related.
I can remember when I was young and there were four generations living in one house. The house started out many, many years ago as a two room log house. By the time I was born, it had become a much larger house. My great-grandmother, my grandparents, my parents and I (along with my three siblings) lived in this one house. I can remember when we first got electricity and the house never had indoor plumbing. Somewhere along the way after we had moved to our own house, my grandparents did manage to get water into the house. But you know those years - we moved out when I was nine - were the happiest I can remember. I know times were hard and things were not always easy, but in my mind I cannot see any of that. We had plenty to eat thanks to the gardens and chickens and pigs. We had a place to live, not a palace but a mansion of love. We had clothes even though most of them were either hand me downs or home made by grandmother. We had plenty of room to play whatever games our imagination could find. Ever built your very own playhouse from pine straw? You ain't lived if you haven't. No, I did not slip grammatically. Some things are just better said like that. And the Sunday afternoons when Granddaddy would take us on a hike up the "mountains" behind the house. We would get to the top and he would begin to point so and so's house and mr. somebody's fields. It was awesome how smart he was. .
When I started school, the second time, we had to walk about half a mile to the highway to catch the bus. Didn't matter if it was hot, cold, raining or the dogs were following. It was down the road we went. I said the second time, because, Mother had enrolled me the year before in the little one-room school house, but I had to be taken out because that was the year the age requirements said you had to be six on or before October 1. That didn't happen to me until November. That was OK since the school was right next to my other great-grandparents house and we visited there a lot and I was allowed to visit the school. Those were golden days.
But as time went on and as I begin to "age" things began to not be as such. This thing called unhappiness began to creep into my life and I did not like it. I did find out as I continued to age that that was just part of life and I did survive. May have not liked it, but survive I did.
And even as I grew into adulthood and eventulally married and began a family, things were not always joy and fun. I can hear my Mother talking about how it seemed that after her children grew up and went out on their own, she was kind of forgotten. I guess it is called making your own nest. I tried to make it a part of my life to include her in as much as I could. If there was a band competition, she was always happy to go. She and I had a ritual for a long time. I would get up on Saturday and get Joe off to work. Then I would get ready, pick Momma up and away we woulod go. First stop was Hardee's for breakfast, slow and no hurrying. Then we would just ramble for quite a while, usually at Wal-Mart and then do some grocering shopping. I would drop her off at her house and come on home. Those were happy times, times that I miss.
Aging goes on until we can't go anymore. Then our bodies will revert back to from whence it came. Sometimes I think how wonderful that will be, but then I think of the things I would miss. Fortunately, I won't know I am missing them.
I will be back on this subject later. I am glad I have gotten back on my blogging. Lazy I was for a while.