I’ve never had a feeling or opinion about reaching a certain age. I really do think it is just a number.
But ever since my mother died, the number 48 has been in my mind. She did not get to live past that age. Not constantly, but throughout some of the things I’ve experienced and decisions taken, for good, bad and worse.
People often say that you “time is a healer” and you will be alright “once you give it a space”. Honestly, that is not the case for me. Early on, the pain felt overwhelming, paralyzing my life as it happened through all kinds of coping mechanisms. Being angry at the world, burying in professionalism antics. Just to quote myself on it and put it in perspective:
My grieving wasn’t that well. Looking back, I spend almost 8 years keeping myself busy, being angry mostly because of powerlessness and adjusting my ambition in my profession to keep my head of the real issues.. This has cost me friendships, refrained me from enjoying some things in life and I feel it almost cost me my relation too, although she has proven every time again what true love means.
20+
Above quote was at the point of 10 years after my mother’s passing. And now we’re here, 20+ years later.
Over time, the intensity does soften, I can now say. I still feel sadness at times, but it’s more in waves than rather everything all at once. The waves eventually got longer too. Meanwhile, I did find a couple of ways to carry the memory with love instead of just pain. It is like living with a beautiful scar rather than an open wound.
I carry that scar with honor now. I talk about it and what it means to me, including the not-so glorious bits and aspects of mental health. I believe she would have been proud and part of me believes there still be a chance she she sees it, although humanity has not yet reached a verdict over it 😉
And sure, sometimes the grief resurfaces. Especially with anniversaries, holidays, Christmas times, big decisions and sometimes really unexpected triggers. It does not mean I am back at square one. It means the scar is part of me and my life. The grief isn’t weakness. It is a big reminder of the amount of love I had and how much I still miss her. Even after all that time passed. And sometimes the waves are bigger and longer, but not a tsunami of pain anymore.
48+
I am now a grown man (still boy-at-heart, as some call out). Not the 28 year old young man who lost his mother to the terrible disease called cancer. I’ve come to enjoy life way more and do not procrastinate as much anymore. I admit, I often thought “Well let’s get to 48 and then we’ll see” before hitting this particular age. But there is no point in waiting while you can live your life and enjoy it. Even the bad choices and mistakes you make! I enjoy even going outside for a snowy walk like today, taking my nieces to an amusement park, pushing some of my limits in yoga or just Netflix & Chill with the misses.
Simple stuff, small things but so valuable if you consciously experience them, “in the now”.
Or (I love my analogies): As the wave crashes onto beach, the water ebbs away and love and life remains.
I learned (mastered?) to ride that wave, I like to think. I also learned how to fall into the deep end. Or even dive into it to enjoy beautiful coral and marine life 🪸🦩🐠.
Anyways, point is that I will still fail and learn. And learned to enjoy and share that journey, too.
96+?
It feels like I’m only just starting to live the best part of my life.
So.. fuck 50, that’s just another number on my way to a healthy 96+ (I’ll post a follow up when I get there💗)