It was a conversation my doctor didn’t expect. I had carefully considered how to initiate it. I decided that it was best to just jump into it. On a recent visit I asked, “Given my current health and way of life, in rough terms, how long do you think I’ll live?” Yep! That broke his stride as he was going through his routine questions. “Why are you asking me that?” he responded, with was what clearly surprise in his voice. I explained that I was attempting to address retirement planning and wondered if I had sufficient resources to care for myself until my death. “That’s a good thing to consider,” he responded. “Most people don’t do that.”
Of course, my doctor doesn’t know the future. I could die in an accident today. But he estimated that if nothing unforeseen happens, I can expect to live another twenty to twenty-five years. While thinking about that doesn’t seem like a great deal of time to me, it does mean that I’ll live beyond the average life expectancy of men in the US.
Since that visit to my doctor, I’ve sat with his comments to me and considered what they mean. Of course, there are many dimensions of meaning when one considers their own death. While I don’t look forward to my likely decrepitude, I am also aware that to grow old is a privilege that many people never experience. Let me say that again: to grow old is a privilege that many people never experience.
I have a grandniece who died in early childhood and a nephew who died in his early 20s. While I lost many loved ones during the AIDS crisis who were in their twenties and thirties, a very close friend died at the age of 42. In many countries around the world, life expectancy hovers around age 50. So, yes: growing old is a privilege. Many people simply don’t have the luxury of a long life.
I’m also aware that I’ve reached the point in life where many younger people view me as irrelevant. In my professional workplace, as a minister in my denomination, and in social relationships, my life experience is often treated as irrelevant. And, yes: there are those who also treat me as irrelevant. I know that this will only happen more frequently with time. After all, I am a member of the Boomer generation.
How, then, do I look at growing older and living another 20 or 25 years….and perhaps longer? (My doctor did suggest that I shouldn’t rule out living into my 90s.) I know it’s a waste of my time and energy to sort out how some younger people view and treat me. I can’t change that. But what I can do is address how I perceive myself and my life.
I recognize that I’m very much a product of my culture. I often define myself by what I’ve done or what I’m doing. Yet, I hold dear to the conviction that my (our) primary purpose in life is to be transformed into the Divine Image within me (us). Because I don’t live in a day to day manner as though my primary purpose in life is transformation but instead am caught up in what I do to prove my worth, I live with an essential conflict between my beliefs and actions. Realizing this, I am finding that rather than looking forward to retirement and aging from the perspective of what I will do, I need to change my focus to consider who I will be. Yes, over the next 20 or 25 years, who will I become? As I age, will I be a person who is happy and content? Will I be someone who radiates joy? Can I be reconciled in ways that allow me to live in peace with myself and with others? Or will I be the person who tends to have strong opinions and be impatient with others, as I have been throughout my life?
What I’m coming to realize is that aging can be a time for new growth. It is another opportunity to be the person I was created to be. Yes, a long life is a privilege that many never have. However long my life will be, I still have time to become a better person and to live fully. Yes, who will I become? That’s the real question.
Photo source: James Wheeler on Pexels.com