The End of Era, Aging, and the Holidays

This holiday season was a strange and emotional one for me. On my way to see my dad I stopped off in the town where I went to college to see several friends. My primary stop was to see my dearest and closest friend of forty years who had prostate cancer a few years ago. Because of overcrowding of hospitals due to the COVID pandemic he was unable to have his surgery for approximately a year. He was finally able to have his prostate removed last year. Unfortunately by then, the cancer had spread to his bones, bone metastasis or metastases. This type of cancer is incurable and life expenctancy is around five years. Despite that my friend is doing incredibly well. He is a serious practitioner and believer in mindfulness. Thanks to that, his incredibly positive attitude (mind over matter!), a strong support network, and a chemotherapy "bomb" (several weeks of "bombing" the cancer with an almost overload of chemo) his PSA numbers are non-existent and his overall health is quite good. 

While in town I also visited with a couple I've known equally as long. One half of the couple is beginning to show (what I and I alone suspect) are signs of some sort of dementia. While his is still quite coherent (knows who people are, can easily do everyday activities, etc), he tends to ramble from topic to topic in the same conversation never alighting on any one point or idea. At one point sitting beside him he talked for almost five minutes non-stop and I couldn't make sense of any of it. I've asked other friends about this and they've noticed the same behavior and say it's progressing. 

By coincidence at the house of the friends above another friend happened to be in town from Virginia at the same time I was. His hair is now shoulder-length and white. He is in wonderful health, but the aging process is evident. Having not seen him in about thirteen years, although it shouldn't be, the difference was a shock. Several other friends I hadn't seen in almost as long came to the house for a small party/get together. It was the same with them. They've aged. Oddly enough, I hadn't considered that even though we haven't seen each other in so many years, they would continue to age just as I have. Of course they wouldn't remain looking like they did almost twenty years ago! Realizing that obvious fact hit me hard and strange.

Traveling on to my dad's house, I was a little surprised at how much he's aged since I saw him just a month earlier at Thanksgiving. He's going to be 85 in next month and is still very active. He still drives, lives independently alone (cooks his own food, does his own laundry, cleans his house, etc), plays cards at his church's senior citizen center every Wednesday with friends, visits the local senior citizen meal center on Tuesdays for breakfast with some of those same friends, and drives a neighbor to dialysis once a week. Despite all that, I saw a drastic decline from a month ago. He stumbles more now, his left hand shakes uncontrollably most of the time, and he's started repeating stories to me as if he's telling me for the first time. He's also beginning to mix and confuse stories and events. What happened with one of his sisters he now remembers as happening to another. He will tell me one facet of an event and an hour later he will retell the story with different people in the story.

In addition, my father is now living almost full-time in the memory of his marriage to my mother who died seven and a half years ago. They knew each other since they were seven and ten (mother, father respectively) and were married for fifty-two years. He misses her terribly and I don't blame him. He reminisces about their lives together, things they did, places they went, and tragedies they suffered together. He does this with a peculiar longing that sounds very much like he knows his time is coming to a close.

All of these things combined made for a rather melancholy and somber holiday. Yes, it was absolutely wonderful to see all the people listed above, of course! But it's brought to the fore the notion that a particular era of my life will be coming to a close soon. Some of the people I've loved dearly will be gone. There will be no more weekends to spend together, no silly stories to trade, and no time just sitting together in each other's company not doing anything at all. 

Most importantly is my dad. When he's gone I'll be the last member of my immediate family. My mother for whatever reason wasn't able to have any more children, and I am thus, an only child. My dad and I have not always seen eye-to-eye. Sometimes we've outright butted heads and not always gently. I have cousins I'm semi-close to, but it won't ever be the same. I won't have any brothers or sisters to spend my time with. I sit and watch my dad sometimes and I think about how he knows it's winding down faster now each day. 

I have mixed emotions about this. I'm acutely aware that life is short, and that notion becomes more real every day. I want to know that when this era or chapter in my life with these friends and family comes to a close I haven't squandered any of my time with them. I want to be sure it all counted. When they're gone I don't want to regret. I want to smile and be happy for the fact that these people were in my life in the first place.