I
found myself nodding along quite a lot while reading this column. I am the
youngest of six siblings and I am in my mid-fifties. I was fourteen when my
father died. I was fifty when my mother died, which happened within a
twelve-month period in which three great, long-time friends each lost their mom
and one of them also lost his father. When my mom died, he sent me a
pitch-perfect text pointing out that we were now both orphans but as
fifty-year-old men not likely candidates for adoption. I smiled until I laughed
and laughed until I cried.
My
children are grown and are, themselves, parents. My grandchildren are the
greatest, most wholly undeserved gift I have ever received. They have given me
a new lease on life. The arrival of my first grandchild almost four years ago
did make me think a bit of my own mortality and, statistically, how much of
their glorious lives shall likely take place after I am gone. It did not make
me sad. It made me want to make sure that I spend as much time with them as I
can so that they will have memories of me that long outlive me.
Thank
you, Mr. Blow, for putting into words how it is I feel as I embark on the final
third of my life. Good luck to you on yours.
Good words. Blow's and yours.
ReplyDeleteAdam, sometimes it takes me a bit to catch up with you prolific posting, but ooh it's the worth wait. Love everything about this one. One of my favorite things about the internet is that it lets us find our kindred spirits, wherever they may be, and their words, when the time is right. Great stuff here.
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