Pete Townshend, who wrote those immortal words for the Who in 1965, could now probably see the irony now he's 61, however I'm sure now he simply changes his definition of the word "old" with every passing year.
Today I visited my grandmother, who is 90 years old. Because I live in Auckland and my family lives at the other end of New Zealand in Dunedin, I don't often spend my time in the middle of the South Island. In fact I think it's been over four years since my last visit to Christchurch, and it has been at least that long since I've seen my grandmother.
I called her on the 'phone before I arrived, because i knew she probably wouldn't know me when she saw me. I didn't expect not to recognise her myself.
My grandmother is extremely stubborn and point blankly refuses to go into a group home. Unfortunately this life choice has removed the promise of any company in her remaining years - it amazes me the lengths people will go to to live in their own homes until "they carry me out in a pine box" (her words - not mine). If only her decision didn't impact on the lives of so many others in her family.
She was always a great talker, and in that capacity she still reins supreme. The problem is, her conversation is short but extremely repetitive. She kept saying I looked like one of Roger's sons - I pointed out that I was one of Roger's sons, and was very probably the very one I reminded her of. She called me Brent, who is another of her grandsons, then went on to tell me how well Brent was doing (which really must do Brent's head in when he visits). She asked me how my wife (yeah right) was, and that she had a real problem with my mother (who in fact is my Aunt). She is very house proud and tells me she still does her own housework (again - yeah right) - and that the home helpers don't do much except steal her knives and forks. We then skipped back to how much I looked like on of Rogers sons again and repeated the above conversation again - and again - and again.
Although what I've written may seem to be somewhat light in nature - I assure you that it wasn't a laughing manner. I looked, I listened, I engaged in polite conversation, and hugged her when I left, all the while thinking to myself: I hope I die before I get old.
2 comments:
Ahhh..the joy of old age. I too hope i die before i get old. I dont know how well one can act as a child when the body and mind is no longer willing to engage as you would rightly have it!! And i know for a fact, that if this wee enjoyment i find in my life of behaving like a child, was taken from me i would probably become a little 'disturbed' myself.
I guess if i had to get 'old' i would probably like to find myself thinking it to be quite comic hearing oneself being called old, even at ninety I suppose!
I think living with the attitude that 'old' is always 20 years older than what you are is the way to adopt age! haha. You're as old as you feel!!!...or should i be saying 'Your as old as you act!'
As the great wise man Abraham Licoln once said...'And in the end, it's not the years in your life that count. It's the life in your years'
Here's to the old folks who have lived a life so long and true that they are starting to run out of room for all the ongoing memories that make up that never-ending word 'life'.
Cheezel - Amazed you turned up here.
You'll never be 90 - it's not in your nature. Assuming the rest of your bruised and battered body makes it to 90 I'll still be proud to be your friend.
At least we know youre knees will be up to the task ;-) Take care luv x
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