Busy

December 29, 2018

“I can’t see to read, am too weak to do much more than sit in this chair. By the time I get dressed in the morning, I’m tired out and have to sit down.” The litany goes on matter-of-factly, uncomplaining. It’s her honest statement of what life has become at 96. Our visits tire her out, but I think she looks forward to them and to our phone calls, just to break the monotony. 

I look at the photos in her album; her smiling sweetly into the camera on her wedding day, while dad in his uniform looks at her adoringly. Young, slender, and supple, neither of them could have imagined being old, bent over, weak, and tired, yet that is what the years brought the both of them. Dad passed away six years ago, agile in mind, but not in body. Mom is traveling down that same path, sharp and quick of wit while everything else slows to a snail’s pace.

Today was the first day since I don’t know when that there wasn’t a half dozen things scheduled. It was completely blank—wide open. We slept in till nearly 8:00, had breakfast, went to town to exchange a Christmas gift, and came home. Linda read while I cleaned out some files. I did a bit of reading, we watched a show on television, and it’s still only 8:00. 

I can’t imagine life without something needing to be done. It’s no wonder people die soon after retirement if they don’t have something to live for. I liked retirement, but by the third year, had just about finished all the projects that had been piling up, waiting for “that day.” There are times I wouldn’t mind if things slowed down just a bit, but I have friends who don’t see another human being from one day to another and struggle to find significance in the time they continue to be given. I am grateful tonight that this wide open, unstructured day is but one day, and that tomorrow the schedule will pick back up. I like my alone and quiet time, but busy is good. Very good.