I swore when I was younger that I would never tell anyone a “when I was your age story.” I always hated it when somebody told me one of those.
A couple years ago, I caught myself telling a client one of those stories. After I was finished my client just stared at me for a moment like a cat does when you do something really stupid. Then, she turned and walked away, just leaving me standing there. Her reaction bewildered me. She is a very rebellious young lady, always with something to say.
I went back to my office. As I sat down in my chair to finish up some finances, I realized what I had done. Not only had I used the “when I was your age” phrase, but I compared my past to another person’s life who clearly has a completely different life than what I had. Also with that one statement, I became old. As I sat there reflecting on the moment, it sunk in how old I really am.
I felt sad. I started thinking about all the medicine I have to take, wondering when my hearing was going to go or my eyesight. I became anxious, thinking how long will it be before my hair turns completely gray? Will I get dementia? How old will I be when I start wearing diapers again? Will I nod off while I am eating dinner? OMG, how long will it be before my boobs start sagging so low that they’re mistaken for my kneecaps?
I shook it off and got back to work. As the week progressed my sadness became a depressed state, then I began mourning. I was mourning my youth; my lost dreams, the loss of beloved family members who passed, all the heartbreaks I had experienced over the years. The fact that I cannot be as active as I used to be. I also recalled many bittersweet memories that made me cry. I wept for those precious memories of times gone by; existing only for a brief moment inside my mind.
I needed somebody to talk this out with, so I went to see my dad. Dad told me the same thing he always does; “Damn it, why are you bothering me with this?” But, he followed up by saying; it doesn’t matter how old you get, it matters how you get there. He reminded me that I just need to take life one day at a time, not worry about the future and to live well. He said God gives you everything you need and what you need is peace. And he added if I pray on it, I will receive it. Then he said when you are as old as I am you will understand better the importance of asking God for peace.
We sat there quietly while I pondered what he had said. Then I began to laugh. Dad asked me what was so funny. I told him that I had spent the whole week upset because I had told someone a “when I was your age story”, and when I came to see him in hope of straightening out my head, he told me a “when you get as old as I am” story. He just laughed and told me aging is a part of life that we don’t put much thought into until we realize it’s happened to us. He said growing old is not for the faint of heart, but having God to keep your spirit strong makes it easier.
Dad then added that he is grateful to be here to tell me a “when you are as old as me” story.
I am grateful he is too.