My thoughts about living a long life are shaped by some of the ninety and one hundred year olds I’ve gotten to know.
Bob was ninety-eight years old when I called to see how he was doing. His eyesight was failing and he knew it was time to sell his home and finds a different living arrangement. He shared with me, “I know where I’m going after I die. I’m just not ready to go yet.” I thought, “Wow. When will you be ready?”
My dad was in his nineties when my brother and sister and I decided he couldn’t be alone in his house anymore. All of a sudden, he stopped taking care of the yard, cleaning the house, and getting haircuts. He knew it was time for a change, too.
When I visited my dad in assisted living, we spent a lot of time looking through old pictures. He said, “I think I’m getting old.” I said, “Dad, you’re in your nineties.” He looked at me like I was insane. “No I’m not!” When we affirmed his birthday and figured out his age, he was surprised by his age.
Another friend, Betty, has made it to one hundred and two years so far. She has outlived all her friends and most of her family. She had little to look forward to each day.
So why do we exercise, take vitamins, and eat a healthy diet? We want to put off death as long as possible. Which means aspire to live a very long life.
And we rarely stop to think about what that means.
It means someone else will be taking care of us. It means we will no longer live in our own home. It means that we will have outlived most of our friends and family. It means that you will most likely be very, very lonely.
So I want to live just long enough. Just long enough to hold a great-grandchild, finish writing my story, sing a song, eat a piece of chocolate, and down a shot of bourbon.
That should be long enough.
Waite for it... 