Today is my birthday. I had a friend ask me if I had stopped counting the years yet, and if I was just 'hanging out' at 29 or some other number. My answer was a resounding - "no way - every year is a reason to celebrate!"
I didn't always feel this way, I used to keep my birthday quiet, not really celebrating the day, but letting it slip by, hopefully unnoticed by those around me.
But I know now, that each year, in fact each day, is something to acknowledge and commemorate.
I am 54. Awesome, and amazing 54. I know things now that I had no clue about at 24, or even 44. I am more confident, more content, and ever more calm than I was 10, 20 or 30 years ago. I may not be in the best shape of my lifetime, but I am continuing to learn to love the shape I am in - scars and all. I have earned every gray hair on my head...and those lines on my face? Well they tell the story of my life - lines from worrying about those I love and lines from years of laughter and joy. There is the scar I got from falling off my bike, and the slight bump on my nose from breaking it 4 different times. All chiseled in as evidence of a life lived. Evidence of the ups and downs that are a normal part of being alive.
What a privilege it is to grow old. To get to see life through the many lenses of age and time. And I feel I am only just beginning to learn and understand the amazing nuances of life and relationships - why would I ever want to hang out at 29?
Don't get me wrong - 29 is awesome, when you are 29. But when you are 54 - 54 is awesome, and I believe if I am so fortunate as to live to 64, 74 or beyond - that each of those ages will be awesome too.
To embrace change; to live for the opportunity to learn and feel something new; to find purpose and peace in the little things that make life so wonderful - and challenging - and sometimes frustrating - but always, always, so worth the living - this is what birthdays are about, and this is my birthday wish for you.
Peace and Love
-barb
Monday, May 28, 2018
Saturday, May 12, 2018
memories are more than things
Memories are funny things - they can be triggered by a song, a scent, a story or a place. They can make us laugh, or cry, and they can instantly bring back whatever emotion they elicited at the time they were formed. They are something we take for granted will be there when we need and want to recall them, until they are not.
As we get older, we are given glimpses of what it might be like to be memory-impaired: losing our keys and, after much looking, finding them in the refrigerator; getting a warm greeting from someone at the grocery store and having no idea who they are; going downstairs (or to the garage, or the bedroom) and forgetting what we went down to do or get. And we realize how much we depend on our memory.
Then, as our parents get older, we experience, through them, the pain and frustration of losing one's memories.
Watching someone move through the stages of dementia is something many of us will experience if we are fortunate enough to grow old along side those we love. Dementia can take the memory quickly, or slowly. It can result in confusion over what year or decade it is, erasing some experiences completely from the memory; or, it can result in a rewriting of the most stressful times in life allowing for a different outcome, if only in the mind. It can leave the memories somewhat intact, but create fear and confusion as the individual struggles to differentiate between reality and dreams or takes on the belief that something read or seen on tv has occurred to them. Dementia reminds us of the pivotal role our memories play in our well-being.
As I worked over the last few months to get my house ready to sell, I've come across so many things that have triggered memories - both good and bad, but mainly good. And I've understood more completely why simplifying our lives and clearing out the "things" we've accumulated increases in difficulty as we grow older. We worry if we don't have the "things" to trigger our memories, we will forget those people that have been most important to us. We cling to the scarf with the lingering scent of perfume, or the card with the instantly recognizable handwriting. We believe that those things will have even greater value to us as we age, and our memories become a little less sharp. And we fear that somehow, freeing ourself of the object is, in someway, dishonoring the memory of the person.
I'm not sure if this is why my parents held on to so much "stuff", or if they were concerned that they might be discarding something of value. I'm not clear if it was the "depression era" frame of mind, or the concern over losing the history of what had come before. All I know is that, at the end of their days, the memories were not tied to "things", they were tied to people; and when the memories, started to fade, it was the people who brought them back out of the fog.
There are so many things I could hold onto that would, I'm sure, continue to trigger memories of my parents and my childhood, but in my heart I hold the most important thing - the love. It wells up in me when I recall sitting on my mother's lap as she rocked me, or remember watching my father teach my daughter to ride a bike. And that love is not something that the presence or absence of any item, big or small, can ever take away.
If I have the privilege of growing old, I'm sure at some point I will forget many things - but the love will always be there. I may not carry with me the memory of a face or a name, or of something I did or said, but I will carry with me the love. And even if I become angry because I am confused by the faces and places I do not recognize and the words I cannot recall, deep down, the love will linger on - the love I feel for my daughter, the love I've shared with family and friends.
The memories fade, but the love endures.
So this mother's day, hug the people you love, call someone you haven't talked to in awhile, drop a card to a friend or family member - and let them know you love them. You will give them a memory that will endure far longer than any bouquet or bauble ever could.
As we get older, we are given glimpses of what it might be like to be memory-impaired: losing our keys and, after much looking, finding them in the refrigerator; getting a warm greeting from someone at the grocery store and having no idea who they are; going downstairs (or to the garage, or the bedroom) and forgetting what we went down to do or get. And we realize how much we depend on our memory.
Then, as our parents get older, we experience, through them, the pain and frustration of losing one's memories.
Watching someone move through the stages of dementia is something many of us will experience if we are fortunate enough to grow old along side those we love. Dementia can take the memory quickly, or slowly. It can result in confusion over what year or decade it is, erasing some experiences completely from the memory; or, it can result in a rewriting of the most stressful times in life allowing for a different outcome, if only in the mind. It can leave the memories somewhat intact, but create fear and confusion as the individual struggles to differentiate between reality and dreams or takes on the belief that something read or seen on tv has occurred to them. Dementia reminds us of the pivotal role our memories play in our well-being.
As I worked over the last few months to get my house ready to sell, I've come across so many things that have triggered memories - both good and bad, but mainly good. And I've understood more completely why simplifying our lives and clearing out the "things" we've accumulated increases in difficulty as we grow older. We worry if we don't have the "things" to trigger our memories, we will forget those people that have been most important to us. We cling to the scarf with the lingering scent of perfume, or the card with the instantly recognizable handwriting. We believe that those things will have even greater value to us as we age, and our memories become a little less sharp. And we fear that somehow, freeing ourself of the object is, in someway, dishonoring the memory of the person.
I'm not sure if this is why my parents held on to so much "stuff", or if they were concerned that they might be discarding something of value. I'm not clear if it was the "depression era" frame of mind, or the concern over losing the history of what had come before. All I know is that, at the end of their days, the memories were not tied to "things", they were tied to people; and when the memories, started to fade, it was the people who brought them back out of the fog.
There are so many things I could hold onto that would, I'm sure, continue to trigger memories of my parents and my childhood, but in my heart I hold the most important thing - the love. It wells up in me when I recall sitting on my mother's lap as she rocked me, or remember watching my father teach my daughter to ride a bike. And that love is not something that the presence or absence of any item, big or small, can ever take away.
If I have the privilege of growing old, I'm sure at some point I will forget many things - but the love will always be there. I may not carry with me the memory of a face or a name, or of something I did or said, but I will carry with me the love. And even if I become angry because I am confused by the faces and places I do not recognize and the words I cannot recall, deep down, the love will linger on - the love I feel for my daughter, the love I've shared with family and friends.
The memories fade, but the love endures.
So this mother's day, hug the people you love, call someone you haven't talked to in awhile, drop a card to a friend or family member - and let them know you love them. You will give them a memory that will endure far longer than any bouquet or bauble ever could.
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