Where have you experienced facing your own mortality? Who in your life has shown you how to live well so that dying is done gracefully and aging is done well?

STORY 1
Because I married a man older than me and because he has friends older than him, I found myself sitting with a group of people in their early sixties. The small gathering was inspired by a woman who just turned 60. What’s a better topic to discuss at a birthday dinner than aging well, sadness around aging and death? I consider myself blessed to have gotten in on a conversation about aging with people who are 20 years older than me.

One man talked about sitting with his mother for 15 minutes after she passed away before he called in the nurses. Kudos to him. Moments of death are holy. I’m always glad when people, walking with a loved one in their final rite of passage, get quiet and listen to their instincts. After sitting with her for a while he turned to walk out the building. It hit him, he said, in the hallway. 

A strong sense of his mother surrounded him everywhere. He wasn’t expecting it. He hadn’t anticipated it. But there she was, filling a whole hallway, enveloping him with the essence of herself. Her soul, perhaps. He wasn’t sure how other Christians would hear that kind of story. He’s not Catholic. He doesn’t pray to the saints and perhaps it sounds strange to be surrounded by the love of your mother rather than by the love of God, but he explained himself. He noted that it would make sense for a God of Love to surround someone with love by having them experience the love of someone close to them. Who better than the person who gave birth to them? 

I didn’t think this sounded strange. It sounded like a beautiful example of one woman who lived and aged well and was now part of the great cloud of witnesses in his life. She had taught him faith, she had lived her own faith, she encouraged him on his journey and now she was surrounding him to let him know that she was part of that entourage now. 

This story struck me partly because of my own experience. I tend to be opinionated, animated and passionate when I speak. I tell my husband that his family is more Brittish and my family is more Italian. When we had our daughter though, I didn’t feel the rush of emotion that I assumed I’d have. Instead I was quiet. My spirit was still. I didn’t know how to process this reaction in me towards the most precious thing that happened to me. 

The story struck me though because listening to him talk I realized that more than anything, I want to be able to offer that kind of gift to our daughter when I slip into the other side. I want her to have an overwhelming sense of her mama surrounding her. I want her to feel my presence around her from every direction and within herself. I want her to know that I aged well, I ran the good race and I’m part of that cloud of witnesses. 

This man’s mother knew how to age well. She carried that grace with her into death and blessed him with another step of her journey – even after having passed away. What an incredible experience.

STORY 2
I was also incredibly grateful to be at this table where the star of the party was willing to share (in slight depth) about her experience of aging. As a 60 year old woman she noted that you start to become (or feel) “invisible.” People don’t see you like they used to see you. 

Why are we like that as a society? I wrote earlier on how we’ve managed to sequester the older population (Maturing vs aging) to a section of society where we don’t pay attention to them. They’re invisible, just like the birthday woman talked about feeling. We’re afraid of aging. We want to hide the ones who remind us that we all have that one final, ultimate rite of passage to take – death. We fight it so hard. I remember seeing this glaringly when in my teens.

I saw a black and white advertisement when I was in high school of a lovely older woman. Underneath her image read the words, “I don’t intend to grow old gracefully.” I loved it right away. Then I hesitated. Then I changed my mind. My final verdict of the advertisement was that the picture was lovely and the concept was dumb. I hold to that verdict. Who the heck wants to grow old UNgracefully!? I cut out the advertisement to keep the image of the woman and I cut out a piece of paper to paste over the word, “don’t.” I hung that picture then with the message, “I intend to grow old gracefully.”

Growing old gracefully. I’m halfway through and I don’t really know how to do aging gracefully, but it seems that for women, at least, part of growing old gracefully means talking about it. Is that right? Naming that we feel invisible. And then maybe pushing into that a bit. Maybe start by pushing into new areas/hobbies/interests. For the star of this party that meant walking. Specifically it meant starting with a twelve hour walk. Later perhaps aiming for a multi-day hike. Perhaps doing a pilgrimage in Ireland or walking the El Camino. Of all the virtues, it seems that forgiveness would be foundational, too. That’s one that needs more exploring at a later time, but for now I’ll place it for others to marinate on. 

I don’t know how I’ll age, but I want to do it gracefully. I also  want to do it well. After I got back from that evening meal I couldn’t sleep and some of my thoughts turned to the conversation. Dar Williams’ song, You’re aging well, came to my mind. I played it the next day and was reminded of how much I used to enjoy this song. 

The lyrics talk of various ages of being a girl/woman. There are struggles with not being thin enough, pressures to find a man and get married, attempts to push back anger. Ultimately, the song comes back to how the woman is aging well. The lyrics along these lines are as follows:

• This is your year, and it always starts here
  And oh You’re aging well.
  
• And now you’ll dance through the days while the orchestra plays
  And oh, you’re aging well.
  
• Looking back, seeing far, landing right where we are
  And oh, you’re aging, oh and I am aging,
  Oh, aren’t we aging well?

I’m grateful for this birthday party that opened real conversation among a few people on age. The stories were sad, rich, meaningful, inspiring. There’s a lot of work to do in life to do aging well and it reminds me to set goals and move towards them. So I have goals: Age well. Fight invisibility, but be graceful. Join the cloud of witnesses. Don’t fear death. Talk about it with our daughter and show myself to our child after death.

Thanks, friend, for hosting a real party with real conversation. And thanks, Dar, for a song that helps us to sing our way into trusting that we’re aging well!