Welcome to the club. I think it's something that happens to us in our eighties. We get a lot more comfortable with looking ahead to dead, knowing we're closer than ever before. It's a good feeling and a lot of people don't understand that. Maybe it's a sense of finishing well. And then there's that part of looking at those three other generations in our family following us, and being confident that all will go well for them because they are good people, doing good things and helping others. I am contemplating a post about "the kaleidoscope of generational narratives—how they shift, clash, merge—as our society evolves." Inspiration from @Gen123info self description.
my mother thought about what she would miss. She thought about it a lot. I know, because I watched her, and I was somewhat tuned into her thoughts. I was also with her, by the way, when she died. I was in the room. She had been pretty much unconscious for so many days, in the hospital. Just before she died, that night, she suddenly sat straight up, and I saw her look across the room, nodding, as if she were acknowledging who was in the room and it was filled with people, and it wasn't. It was only her and me. But she was seeing the ancestors, her mother, her aunt, her father, with whom she would be, shortly. I am convinced of this and knew it at the time. Then she collapsed, back into her exhaustion, and passed in and at peace
Lucky you to have seen this. I look forward to the same thing, although I'm not convinced it will happen. Seeing loved ones waiting for you would be a nice way to leave.
it is how it was for my mother, and I witnessed it. Who knows? I am not afraid. We are called, I will be called, the horses will be waiting, like Emily Dickinson says, to go 'home'. I think of it like a plane. Our flight will leave. We don't know just where we're going, but our ticket it up. I want to be ready, bags packed so to speak
My mother did not want to die alone, or in pain. I don't feel that way. It's a transition, like childbirth. Although I do not like living, day to day, with any (any!) pain.
That does help. Also the thought, for me, that as in childbirth, my body knows what to do whether or not I do. I try to trust that instead of my resistance. I remember as a young woman in my thirties waking up with the comforting thought, an epiphany “When I die, I’ll be there.”
i was so proud of myself for an epiphany I'd had that very moment, and I just had to call my younger brother and tell him. He said, yeah, you told me that about a month ago. So--like you--I got to enjoy my epiphany twice. Life is great when it's not terrible!
Also, my brother’s short term memory is like yours and whenever we speak, once or twice a week, he repeats the exact same stories or happenings that he told me about before. I listen patiently and react as if it’s the first time I heard it.
What a wonderful realization. It’s almost odd that we won’t know our great great grandchildren yet it’s so natural.
I was thinking about this yesterday but from the perspective of my great grandparents who escaped Russia. Did they wonder who their great grand kids might be one day? Did they know how appreciative we’d be that they left their communities, families and livelihoods to come to America? And I wonder what I might have inherited from them.
Many of my forbearers were gifted creatives who buckled down to mind numbing jobs as was expected of them. Observing their dissatisfaction with life as I was growing up, convinced me to write and create art no matter what. It's their success that has made it possible for me to follow my dream.
I'm so glad you've got to know at least some of your great-grandchildren, Abigail. That's precious. I think of my parents, who got to know the first of their great-grandchildren; they got to hold the second one as a baby; but they died before numbers three and four were born. But I honestly think by then they both felt that they'd had a good innings and that was the circle of life playing out. Go back a generation and I didn't meet any of my great-grandparents. I guess we should count ourselves lucky that we're living longer!
But there is always the next thing to notice and be curious about. I think by this age I've got so many memories stacked on top of each other that some of them get crushed or misshapen. I like living one moment at a time, and being curious about some small thing I see or what suddenly pops into my mind. of. I think we are so very lucky to write. Don't you? For clarity!
I wanted to say, in her life my mother was a high (academic) achiever, against many odds and adversity, including that she was the sole parent of four wild children in the 60's and 70's. She was also very psychic, by nature. Things would come to her in flashes. I also witnessed this, on several occasions. She gave a lot of thought before she died about what might happen, to me, her other children, the house, her grandchildren, after her died; and I watched the flashes come. She was horrified! Some, she tried to offset, do what she could sl that it wouldn't happen (it did anyway, but that's ok). She blessed me, finally expressed her deep love, also rising, one last time, before she passed on, very clearly. With great strength. She died in 2010
Actually, we’re not “supposed to” do anything except greet each moment and be grateful and watch what’s next. Perhaps we won’t even register that we’ve died, because we actually didn’t….stuff just appears to be different….anyway who really knows….enjoy your moments 🤷♀️☺️
Aging makes living in the moment easy, and I love how roomy moments are. And what the next will be like is often an adventure. Supposed to do? Not sure about supposed to do anything, but we're lucky to leave all the stuff we cared about in the road behind us, and just look forward to what comes next.
Thanks, Abigail. I love being in a time of life that includes so much quiet time, yet still provides plenty of opportunities to participate in interesting activity…..and also offers the choice to “be with” or just “be”. What is essential for individual joy becomes more and more clear. The mud settles. At last. Your words are always a joy for me to hear.
I love that moments come in all different sizes...roomy like you said. I love that, too. But sometimes squished together and almost non-existent depending on what you are involved in, in the moment.
I often wish my mother had the opportunity to see my children and the fine adults they have become. She would have loved this. At least she got to see them as children and that is the comfort I get.
What a loss for your great-grandchildren if you are not with them as they grow up. I barely knew my grandparents and have always envied my older relatives for having those relationships. My mother was just over a month short of 100 when she died, leaving behind several great-grandchildren. She never talked much about death until her two oldest daughters died. Her longevity was a marvel until then, having outlived all but two of her 11 siblings. My sisters died less than six months apart so you can imagine the devastation she felt; neither death was expected and both happened too fast for her to even have a chance to say goodbye. Her experience has taught me that there are worse things than death. To die happy, at least in the correct chronological order, seems like a gift. It’s funny because one of my favorite memories is talking to my mom on the phone when she blurted out, “I feel so good I could live forever!” She was 95 🙂
In the right order, that's how I want to go. I'm so sorry that your sisters died. What a terrible loss. If I get to 95, I want to feel the way your mother did.
Thank you. Her pain was hard to witness. My sisters were a lot older than me (11, 13 years) so for a long time, early in her life, it was just her and her “girls,” as she called them 🙂 My mom was fortunate that she had so many family members (nieces and nephews) around her, doting on her. They gave her much to look forward to.
You are always insightful. Yet, I have to tell you that in my heart no matter how much I acknowledge your feelings and respect your outlook, I am sad that you see your age as a sign of reality to impending death. My brother turned 81 on the 16th of this month and he is the role model dad in my life. He says what you just wrote here about reaching his 80’s indicates to him his death is coming. I suppose because imagining my life without him in it I see my own life stopping and that is what upsets me. How selfish I find myself being when I face my own feelings about death of those I love and care about. I see that my greed in wanting to always have people around me whom I trust, admire and unconditionally love is in reality my own need. No matter how I try to stop those thoughts they still emerge. Leaving me with a contradiction within myself saying I want the person I care about to feel the quality in their own life as much as I feel their quality affecting mine. Does this make sense to anyone but me? Am I supposed to accept my selfishness or fight it? I rebel against the idea of age being the catalyst. Perhaps the Universe fated one to live to 100. That’s almost 20 more years to give oneself to the people who need them. Or am I believing in an idealistic Universe? Does the person who sees the reality of their own death because of a number of years they lived as the probable result? Or is it more of a wish that tells them they are done now? I so wish I found a way to tell my brother and others that age isn’t the tell all, desire to live as long as they can is the goal. Or is that considered selfishness as well? Sigh, morbid thoughts and I make very strange bedfellows. I hope my brother and you both live longer than I do!
I'd love to know what I'm too old to stick around and see. But I've had a good time, and can only hope there will still be a liveable planet as they age. They are all interesting smart people, and doing something they like, the ones in their twenties and thirties, I'm just curious to see how their lives turn out. But it's not in my future, unless I live longer than I will probably want to. My eldest child willl be 64 in December, all my kids are in their fifties, and I have the satisfaction of knowing them well, and being in good touch, their ups and downs, and I'm grateful for that. And the planet cannot survive with a species that doesn't die, which makes me unafraid of dying. I don't think you're selfish, I think you're human. And I'm sure those who know you value your friendship as you do theirs.
Welcome to the club. I think it's something that happens to us in our eighties. We get a lot more comfortable with looking ahead to dead, knowing we're closer than ever before. It's a good feeling and a lot of people don't understand that. Maybe it's a sense of finishing well. And then there's that part of looking at those three other generations in our family following us, and being confident that all will go well for them because they are good people, doing good things and helping others. I am contemplating a post about "the kaleidoscope of generational narratives—how they shift, clash, merge—as our society evolves." Inspiration from @Gen123info self description.
my mother thought about what she would miss. She thought about it a lot. I know, because I watched her, and I was somewhat tuned into her thoughts. I was also with her, by the way, when she died. I was in the room. She had been pretty much unconscious for so many days, in the hospital. Just before she died, that night, she suddenly sat straight up, and I saw her look across the room, nodding, as if she were acknowledging who was in the room and it was filled with people, and it wasn't. It was only her and me. But she was seeing the ancestors, her mother, her aunt, her father, with whom she would be, shortly. I am convinced of this and knew it at the time. Then she collapsed, back into her exhaustion, and passed in and at peace
Love this - A blessing to witness ❤️
Lucky you to have seen this. I look forward to the same thing, although I'm not convinced it will happen. Seeing loved ones waiting for you would be a nice way to leave.
it is how it was for my mother, and I witnessed it. Who knows? I am not afraid. We are called, I will be called, the horses will be waiting, like Emily Dickinson says, to go 'home'. I think of it like a plane. Our flight will leave. We don't know just where we're going, but our ticket it up. I want to be ready, bags packed so to speak
Death doesn't scare me either. It's the natural process.
My mother did not want to die alone, or in pain. I don't feel that way. It's a transition, like childbirth. Although I do not like living, day to day, with any (any!) pain.
That does help. Also the thought, for me, that as in childbirth, my body knows what to do whether or not I do. I try to trust that instead of my resistance. I remember as a young woman in my thirties waking up with the comforting thought, an epiphany “When I die, I’ll be there.”
Comfort, yes.
i was so proud of myself for an epiphany I'd had that very moment, and I just had to call my younger brother and tell him. He said, yeah, you told me that about a month ago. So--like you--I got to enjoy my epiphany twice. Life is great when it's not terrible!
You (or maybe your brother) made me laugh.
And you just made me happy.
Also, my brother’s short term memory is like yours and whenever we speak, once or twice a week, he repeats the exact same stories or happenings that he told me about before. I listen patiently and react as if it’s the first time I heard it.
That is good of you, Kathy.
I try as imperfect as I am. But my love for him brings out patience I didn’t even know I had.
What a wonderful realization. It’s almost odd that we won’t know our great great grandchildren yet it’s so natural.
I was thinking about this yesterday but from the perspective of my great grandparents who escaped Russia. Did they wonder who their great grand kids might be one day? Did they know how appreciative we’d be that they left their communities, families and livelihoods to come to America? And I wonder what I might have inherited from them.
That is so interesting to ponder, what they might have passed down to you. Courage and hope, maybe.
Many of my forbearers were gifted creatives who buckled down to mind numbing jobs as was expected of them. Observing their dissatisfaction with life as I was growing up, convinced me to write and create art no matter what. It's their success that has made it possible for me to follow my dream.
I wonder if my grandson at 20 looks like my grandfather when he was a young man. Or is he is more like my other grandfather who left Bessarabia at 29.
Do you have photographs of them? I see relatives in my children's faces, but they are by now so very much themselves by now, sometimes it's hard.
Only a few photos exist of the elders, but my daughter and I often indulge in comparing who looks like who.
That’s a beautiful epiphany. May you have it again whenever you need it. 😍
Thank you. What a lovely thing to say.
I'm so glad you've got to know at least some of your great-grandchildren, Abigail. That's precious. I think of my parents, who got to know the first of their great-grandchildren; they got to hold the second one as a baby; but they died before numbers three and four were born. But I honestly think by then they both felt that they'd had a good innings and that was the circle of life playing out. Go back a generation and I didn't meet any of my great-grandparents. I guess we should count ourselves lucky that we're living longer!
They are adorable, those little beings. I know I am lucky. Even better, I love both of their parents.
Absolutely.
I love this. Though I’m not ready to move over, as it were. I take comfort when I eventually remember most of the things I forget!
But there is always the next thing to notice and be curious about. I think by this age I've got so many memories stacked on top of each other that some of them get crushed or misshapen. I like living one moment at a time, and being curious about some small thing I see or what suddenly pops into my mind. of. I think we are so very lucky to write. Don't you? For clarity!
Clear
I wanted to say, in her life my mother was a high (academic) achiever, against many odds and adversity, including that she was the sole parent of four wild children in the 60's and 70's. She was also very psychic, by nature. Things would come to her in flashes. I also witnessed this, on several occasions. She gave a lot of thought before she died about what might happen, to me, her other children, the house, her grandchildren, after her died; and I watched the flashes come. She was horrified! Some, she tried to offset, do what she could sl that it wouldn't happen (it did anyway, but that's ok). She blessed me, finally expressed her deep love, also rising, one last time, before she passed on, very clearly. With great strength. She died in 2010
Actually, we’re not “supposed to” do anything except greet each moment and be grateful and watch what’s next. Perhaps we won’t even register that we’ve died, because we actually didn’t….stuff just appears to be different….anyway who really knows….enjoy your moments 🤷♀️☺️
Aging makes living in the moment easy, and I love how roomy moments are. And what the next will be like is often an adventure. Supposed to do? Not sure about supposed to do anything, but we're lucky to leave all the stuff we cared about in the road behind us, and just look forward to what comes next.
Thanks, Abigail. I love being in a time of life that includes so much quiet time, yet still provides plenty of opportunities to participate in interesting activity…..and also offers the choice to “be with” or just “be”. What is essential for individual joy becomes more and more clear. The mud settles. At last. Your words are always a joy for me to hear.
Thank you, Marlene. Your kind words make me happy.
I love that moments come in all different sizes...roomy like you said. I love that, too. But sometimes squished together and almost non-existent depending on what you are involved in, in the moment.
Yes and then there's this, from Ram Dass: "We're all just walking each other home"
Yes!
I love this that moments are roomy
I often wish my mother had the opportunity to see my children and the fine adults they have become. She would have loved this. At least she got to see them as children and that is the comfort I get.
Comfort. Take it however it shows up. And your mother knew your kids when they were younger, that's a big one.
What a loss for your great-grandchildren if you are not with them as they grow up. I barely knew my grandparents and have always envied my older relatives for having those relationships. My mother was just over a month short of 100 when she died, leaving behind several great-grandchildren. She never talked much about death until her two oldest daughters died. Her longevity was a marvel until then, having outlived all but two of her 11 siblings. My sisters died less than six months apart so you can imagine the devastation she felt; neither death was expected and both happened too fast for her to even have a chance to say goodbye. Her experience has taught me that there are worse things than death. To die happy, at least in the correct chronological order, seems like a gift. It’s funny because one of my favorite memories is talking to my mom on the phone when she blurted out, “I feel so good I could live forever!” She was 95 🙂
In the right order, that's how I want to go. I'm so sorry that your sisters died. What a terrible loss. If I get to 95, I want to feel the way your mother did.
Thank you for your response.
Thank you. Her pain was hard to witness. My sisters were a lot older than me (11, 13 years) so for a long time, early in her life, it was just her and her “girls,” as she called them 🙂 My mom was fortunate that she had so many family members (nieces and nephews) around her, doting on her. They gave her much to look forward to.
This is beautiful writing. Makes me weep and makes me remember to keep journaling...perhaps one day my ramblings will be a comfort to me, thank you.
That will happen. Just keep writing. And thank you.
Comfort x3 — beautiful.
Thank you.
You are always insightful. Yet, I have to tell you that in my heart no matter how much I acknowledge your feelings and respect your outlook, I am sad that you see your age as a sign of reality to impending death. My brother turned 81 on the 16th of this month and he is the role model dad in my life. He says what you just wrote here about reaching his 80’s indicates to him his death is coming. I suppose because imagining my life without him in it I see my own life stopping and that is what upsets me. How selfish I find myself being when I face my own feelings about death of those I love and care about. I see that my greed in wanting to always have people around me whom I trust, admire and unconditionally love is in reality my own need. No matter how I try to stop those thoughts they still emerge. Leaving me with a contradiction within myself saying I want the person I care about to feel the quality in their own life as much as I feel their quality affecting mine. Does this make sense to anyone but me? Am I supposed to accept my selfishness or fight it? I rebel against the idea of age being the catalyst. Perhaps the Universe fated one to live to 100. That’s almost 20 more years to give oneself to the people who need them. Or am I believing in an idealistic Universe? Does the person who sees the reality of their own death because of a number of years they lived as the probable result? Or is it more of a wish that tells them they are done now? I so wish I found a way to tell my brother and others that age isn’t the tell all, desire to live as long as they can is the goal. Or is that considered selfishness as well? Sigh, morbid thoughts and I make very strange bedfellows. I hope my brother and you both live longer than I do!
I'd love to know what I'm too old to stick around and see. But I've had a good time, and can only hope there will still be a liveable planet as they age. They are all interesting smart people, and doing something they like, the ones in their twenties and thirties, I'm just curious to see how their lives turn out. But it's not in my future, unless I live longer than I will probably want to. My eldest child willl be 64 in December, all my kids are in their fifties, and I have the satisfaction of knowing them well, and being in good touch, their ups and downs, and I'm grateful for that. And the planet cannot survive with a species that doesn't die, which makes me unafraid of dying. I don't think you're selfish, I think you're human. And I'm sure those who know you value your friendship as you do theirs.
❤️🌼 I still wish you a long, long life…. And I’m so glad you have a loving family!
Thank you, Kathy. Not too long, though.
Beautiful