Okay. I don’t feel well this morning. I can’t tell whether it’s a cold or just pesky sinus problems. I was going to simply say that I was sick and that would be the post, but a couple of things happened this morning that I want to share.
Don had a gig last night and this morning he told me that he sang the song he wrote about my parents years ago. He sang some of the lyrics to me and I started crying. He wrote it after my mom was about to have hip replacement surgery and we learned that the night before the surgery, my dad had stayed awake all night long in order to hold her because she was so scared. His lyrics are so beautiful. He told me he sobbed when he was writing it. We miss my parents.
Then, I was on Facebook and I saw a post from my cousin, Gordy (named after my dad.)
Just a simple post: “I was a helicopter pilot.”
Gordy is older than me and he suffers from the same thing his mother did – Parkinson’s Disease. He lives in Florida but he has a cottage on an island in northern Michigan. He spends every summer there, except for this one. His Parkinson’s has progressed to a point where his doctor was worried about him being able to safely get around in that rather remote location. That simple declaration was so moving. I found myself crying again.
Don’t we all know what that feels like? To be older after a lifetime of working and perhaps retired and/or unable to do what used to come so easily? A loss of identity. A loss of something in which you excelled. Gordy was a helicopter pilot in Vietnam, and a rescue pilot after he came home. I remember him giving me some wings in the form of a small pin. He was handsome and dashing and we worried about him over there in Vietnam. Thankfully, he came home safely. But now he has to face a body that betrays him, that he can’t control, all the while remembering what he used to be able to do.
The comments were lovely, everyone assuring him he was a great helicopter pilot, that he was still a pilot.
When I was young, I used to look at older people with an assumption about them based on nothing except that they were old. It wasn’t unkind or anything like that, rather, a sort of ‘Aren’t they sweet?’ kind of thing. I had no idea what their lives had been like before that moment in time; what their profession had been, who they really were. And because I was young, I was never really curious about that.
Now that I’m older, I have the same feeling that Gordy has. When I walk into a room full of young actors, directors, staff members and I’m the oldest person in the room, I know they are seeing gray hair and wrinkles, just like I saw gray hair and wrinkles and nothing beyond that. In my current situation, I am able to coach the actors and get to know them and that helps. I become defined. But everyone has an interior voice that cries out “You should have seen me when I did this or that!”
Anyway, I am rambling a bit here. I’ll just leave it at that. It’s sort of a weepy morning and that’s okay.
By the way, I received an Islamaphobic comment this morning, obviously in reference to my happiness about the election results. I deleted it, of course, and will block that person. It’s someone who has never commented before, so it might well be a troll. Still, I’m always shocked by that level of ignorance. Begone!
Stay safe.
Happy Saturday.
It’s difficult to get old and see family and friends having one emergency after another. I’m lucky to have family near so we rally to help each other out but I always come home sad from these encounters. I guess we must celebrate the past and the happy times of the present but we can also take time to mourn when we need to.
Peace to you and Don.
Thank you, Ellen.
Stay safe.
prayer said for your cousin. gordy’s troubles and his post and yours are sad and sticky, sticking, and i’m sorry for the sadnesses that have been and are being faced. prayers will continue for him, and for everyone.
how wonderful of your father to stay up all night for your mother, and for don to write a song about them and their love. love, love, love. it’s hard having to miss loved ones, i know, but may we all look forward to the happiest reunions some day. hoping those tears were cathartic for you.
and i understand and relate to the “older” stuff you experienced and wrote about.
thanks for sharing, claudia. may you all have peace and a weekend easier than how it started, and no more cold/allergy symptoms.
sending hugs (if okay).
stay safe.
kathy
Sticky?
I’m not sure I understand!
Thanks, Kathy.
sticky as in hard to deal with. sticking as in sticking around, will stay with me (because i know it’s a trouble and/or can relate).
sorry to be unclear.
kathy
xo
Thank you for this post, Claudia. It’s emotional and heartfelt. It’s so personal, yet applies to all of us who are older.
You’re welcome, Wendy.
Stay safe.
You have laid out exactly how I have been feeling. Recently, two close friends of mine have come to the realization that they can no longer live alone. That is a difficult reality to face, and it gets me thinking as well. Even though I am married, how long can we expect to drive? To take care of our home and yard? Our energy levels do seem to diminish the older we get, as does our strength.
Hard realities we must face. Hopefully, we can face them with grace.
Lovely story of your father comforting your mother. That’s love! Enjoy your day! ;)
I know. Driving, maintaining our home in the country…all of it.
Thanks so much, Donnamae.
Stay safe.
I’m in the same stage of life. We are still very independent but have noticed things take longer, like raking leaves…we do it in sections instead of all at once. I’m having some back pain issues right now and trying to be careful but I have much to do in the next couple weeks getting ready for Thanksgiving. For the first time I realize hosting will become too much for us at some point. Getting old sucks. This summer we had a family reunion and our parents generation are gone but sadly most of my cousins are gone too. There were 20 cousins and we are down to 7. That shocked me, and I wonder if we will all be there again next year.
I try to find something to be grateful for each day…and soak in the good things in life. The days seem to be going by too fast though.
Take care
It does suck, Marilyn. And the days are going by much too fast.
Thank you so much.
Stay safe.
Dear Claudia, I just wanted to say your words today moved me. That feeling you described, of walking into a room and knowing they only see the gray hair and wrinkles.? I’ve felt it too. And I wanted to shout, “You should have seen me when….” Not out of vanity, but because there’s a whole story behind these lines and silver strands. A story of brilliance of daring of love and loss and triumph. You are still that person. You always were. And anyone who takes the time to truly see you will know that. Thank you for sharing your heart so openly. It reminded me that we are never alone in these feelings. You gave voice to something many of us carry quietly. Adn in doing so, you made us feel seen. Sending warmth and admiration from one soul to another.
Maria
Oh, thank you, Maria. As always, your articulate and heartfelt writing brings comfort.
Bless you.
Stay safe.
Such an emotional Saturday for you and Don. It hard to see our loved ones failing. I’m almost 80 and have mobility issues. It makes me appreciate even more what my parents went through as they aged. My mother lived to be 94. She used to say to the grandkids, “l wasn’t born this old”. So true. We need to remember that old people were once children, young people with careers and dreams, parents and grandparents. It’s sad that old age defines us. Enjoy the rest of your weekend. Hugs, Elaine
I love that – I wasn’t born this old. So very true!
Thank you, Elaine.
Stay safe.
We are seeing a wave of Islamaphobia again here in Australia, too. It breaks my heart. In the town where we used to live, there were many refugees from Afghanistan, Iraq, Iran, and a number of African countries. Many, of course, were Muslim. The overwhelming majority were kind, gentle, respectful people who wanted nothing more than to bring up their children, work hard and contribute to the community who welcomed them.
And as for this nonsense that they want to bring in Sharia law…I can’t even begin…
I can’t either. Fear and ignornance are rearing their ugly heads.
Thank you, Denise.
Stay safe.
While my husband has recuperated very well from his heart surgery, we are in shock. We have been married for 46 years. We built 2 houses from the ground up and raised 3 adult children who now are married with their own children. We’ve had a wonderful life together. How did time fly by so quickly? We feel the same as when we married at 21 and 24. It’s hard to comprehend that we will need to slow down.
On a different tack, the leaf mold is phenomenal this autumn!
I hate having to slow down, Betsy.
Thank you.
Stay safe.
I understand this completely. I get this feeling often, but especially around the theatre folk. Most recently, I was at a farewell party for a friend who now does theatre but we met 40 years ago via television. I stopped doing theatre regularly in 1977, though my last on stage role was 1992. At that time there was a huge group of people who did a lot on various stages here (Lansing is an excellent theatre town with at least five companies with regularly producing seasons, a pro company in Williamston and the U. In the local, the quality I’d say is above average for community stuff and there are many faces you see repeatedly. Matt’s party was at a restaurant and there were about 80 people there. Ironically, when you looked at the room, about half was all people I’d known from my era, many of whom I worked with in my time and those who were still part of that earlier time. The other side was all young, probably no one over 30 the new generation. And I thought the same — they never knew who we were or what we did. Many weren’t even born then. We were the “old” side of the room, as it was referred to more than once. Even Rick doesn’t know that part of me, doesn’t know I how well I could sing because I can’t do that anymore due to illness and vocal cord damage from coughing. They never know that part of us.
And I confess, as you said, we were all the same way, looking at “the elders” as a younger person.
I hear it about your cousin too. I remember when my dad had to stop going to the cottage — it was too much. And Rick and I have talked about that too — nothing for immediate future but the if and when. It’s a very sobering thought.
Sending hugs to you today. I hope you find some cheer. (We got about an inch or two of snow last night. Not so cheery on that yet!)
It’s all very sobering. We put off thinking about it when we’re younger. But now, it’s here.
Stay safe, Jeanie.
Claudia, I am feeling my age so much these days. Some sadness and lots of melancholy. Remembering when my body was young and strong and I could go and do most anything. Life is such a journey and I am very much in the remembering part of that journey. I am still able to make new memories and my greatest wish is to see my Grands grow up and finish school. Just trying to take each day as it comes.
Yes. That’s the only way, Linda.
Stay safe.
There is much prejudice about old people. I admit I am guilty too. However I am getting better learning about the interesting lives us older people have lived. You look at someone and you just see old then learn they taught school in Alaska, or were a pilot, an engineer and were world travelers.
Just need to keep learning and listening.
Absolutely. Learning and listening.
Thanks, Kay.
Stay safe.