I’m 65, so you may think this is not special, but it is. Not in the sense of the number 65, but how I know of it. Let me explain. A number is something we all use to know where we are at any given moment, compared to everything else that is happening and in relationship to everyone else. It seems to me now that age is important, because it is a marker, or a goal we have reached. Without that marker it seems we are determined to flounder. However, this is a human trait and need. Obviously in our world it helps with organisation and commerce, but for everything else it seems to be irrelevant. Does a cat, or dog know of tomorrow, I don’t know, but I’m quite sure they don’t plan for it. They live for the now! Happiness and quality of life is their goal. To have enough food, a warm home and love. We, on the other hand, plan for everything. Everything seems to be a goal and it seems that the outcome of this leaves us in a perpetual state of waiting! When I look back, I feel I’ve always be waiting, as I’m still waiting now. Waiting for that one day when… What? Our days seem to be geared to moving forward to something and we seem to spending most of that time, wasting it! Before we know it, that moment has gone and all I seem to be doing is looking back, or waiting for that next ultimate goal.
I look at my arm and I know that I have been here waiting, for over 65 years. In fact, this happened several months ago. However, I didn’t notice it then. In a blink of an eye, it had passed me by. Totally unaware and oblivious to the moment! No sudden change and no event to mark the occasion, but that all changed the other day, when I was told I am 65!
I was told that I am now entitled to my pension. This for many I believe is a sign of achieving one of those magic goals, but for me it seems to be a mile stone of the end of something. Realising that society, or in our society, this means I will be seen differently from now on. The truth seems to be we have ended our time of being of any use. Pensioners,’ that nice term of endearment that many of the young seem to think of as meaning the living dead, do seem to grasp it and do something with it, but for many, including me, it seems a daunting moment. Time seems to change it’s focus on a personal level. I’m here waiting, but waiting for what. I am very aware that I have limited time and everything seems to be around to enforce that fact.
So, now I’m here thinking, why am I bothering to do this, or that, or anything. What is the point!?
I’ve spent all my life thinking and planning for what I should do and it now seems never enough time doing the things that were truly important. Loving and being loved for being me. Being a Dad, being me, not that someone that I thought everyone wanted me to be. I was moulded, changed and modified to suit the times and did everything to support this. Time is important, but not nearly as important as the life we live in it.
I spend so much time thinking of what I think I should be doing and not enough of what I want to to do, that it seems I’m continually wasting the little time I have. This is down to the lifelong programming that is now ingrained in what people see as me. I think this is happening to most of us.
They say that at death, life passes before your eyes and that is true, it’s called living. Everyone is here for a fleeting moment. I just wish that everyone would just stop chasing comparative dreams and start living the real self.
I’ve been told I am 65. I’ve also been told I have dementia, so what the future brings some seem to think they know. Time seems to be this thing we cling to, but really none of us know what tomorrow will bring, or even if we will be here. So, what to do and how should I spend those last moments? Whatever we decide, it comes down to enjoyment and quality of life, or do we make a burden of it, because when our final time comes, it will not make a scrap of difference to any of us then!
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