Tuesday, April 25, 2017

#SOL17: On Not Aging

Rob teaching
Rob will never grow old.
He will not turn a year older like you will this year, or I will next fall.
He'll never retire, or find new hobbies and interests.
He will never see his son graduate high school, drive, enter college.
He will never have the chance to disrupt the idea of what 70 is or 80.

I freeze his life at 60.
When he turned 60, we had no idea what that year would bring.
There were no signs that said, live brilliantly now, for you will be dead soon.
We were blind.

17 years ago my mom died.
Each year, I add to her age.
She would have been 98 had she lived.
My father would have turned 100 next September.

Rob was always 4 years older than me--almost exactly.
We were born on adjacent days in mid-November.
He was 3 years, 364 days older.
There will likely come a time when we are the same age.
There will come a time when I am older.
He will always be 60.

Why can I age my parents, but not my husband?
Is it the simple tragedy of dying early?
I don't know.
What I do know is that Rob will never grow old. 

15 comments:

  1. Thank you for your vulnerable and touching post. I too lost my husband young - 53 - and he will forever stay youthful to me!
    Sending warm thoughts.

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    1. Thank you Christine. Does it get better?

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  2. I think your answer is this line:
    Is it the simple tragedy of dying early?

    My dad died on my 25 birthday at age 55. He is still age 55 in my memory. I'm just 2 years away from that age, an age that will always remain a scary age and the age of my dad who died young - a simple tragedy. Thanks for sharing your thoughts and giving me a chance to remember my 55 year old dad just now.

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    1. I think you are right, Sally. I'm sorry to read that you lost your dad at so early and age.

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  3. Tuvia lost his first wife when she was 56 from breast cancer and would so relate to your poem.
    I am a oster child for the magic of the last chapter.
    Hope for the next chapter for both of us.
    Bonnie

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    1. Your artwork takes my breath away

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    2. Yes, here's to hope and the last chapter.

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  4. I too will freeze frame my young husband who was fit and did 1,000 sit ups a day. I don't have any answers, beyond taking each day and work on creating beauty. That is helping me feel more whole.

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    1. 1000 sit ups a day. Wow. I think I could manage 10:)

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  5. I am connecting your words with Bonnie's today, Mary Ann. There is that part of us who have the loss every day in some way, and to me it has to do with sharing. I often have something that I want to tell/share/experience with my husband, my mother, a young cousin who died at 22, wishing each one could "see" what I'm seeing, "be" where I am, celebrate with me. And I can't, except I do in my heart, and from your post, though sadness indeed, you are too. Hugs for sharing your thoughts.

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    1. I love that idea of sharing it via your heart.

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  6. Thank you for sharing this powerful poem! I understand having lost my father when I was little. I am much other than he now. He has always stayed young in my head. A man I know little about but think about often. My heart and hugs go out to you!

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  7. Your post leaves me thinking about aging...and when we do not age..... My Aunt recently turned 94 amidst a host of medical difficulties...and she would not have a party or celebration....as she was already "old" in her words....and this was not an age to celebrate.....I wonder if it is wise for all of us to stop in time..and to be..I wonder when our aging stops....

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    1. I think every age we live is one to celebrate. Of course I am saying that while in my 50s, not at 94. In some ways it must be challenging to witness the deaths of so many who mattered as we age.

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