Notes to Self

As the last kid, when I got my drivers’ license, my parents were glad to have another driver in the house to do things like go to the grocery store as well as drive to retrieve our grandmother and our great aunt Angel from a trip to Hilton Head and bring them back to Columbia. I took my father‘s boat of a car, a two-tone green Ford LTD. I drove down there and spent the night and, on the way back, those two ladies decided they would sit in the backseat and have me chauffeur them all the way home.

What ensued pretty quickly in conversation between them was who was sick, who was dying and who was dead. It felt like they were calling roll while I got us out of town. At one point, I interrupted and said hey can we talk about something else? They both started laughing and said why?  I said because this is depressing and not my day-to-day. This is the story they told. 

They couldn’t wait to tell my parents how funny they thought this was.

When our mother was in her 70s, she began this practice as well. Who was sick. Who was dying. Who was dead. She would say that going to the doctor had become her social life when her health took a downward return. She sometimes expressed feeling down and sad about these things.

Even at 16, I knew what it was like to have people I know, including people my age, die. Some of them were older and had lived a good, long life. Some of them, however, had lives cut short for a variety of reasons.

As I enter the decades of more people becoming sick, dying, and as Jerry Douglas’s song is titled For Those Who Have Gone Clear, I’ve heard some of my contemporaries say things well I guess we’re at that age.

I guess we are, except that I started placing Notes to Self in my mind so that when I got to this place, I knew I had a choice about how to experience it. I embrace the fact that grief is a natural part of life. As I’ve written before, it’s a form of love, and it’s a privilege to have loved those who have gone clear.

Bette Davis is credited for saying old age ain’t no place for sissies. While there may be truth in that, that’s not where I want to live in my spirit. I want to be grateful for being able to move my body, get together with friends, travel and drink in the beauty I see right outside of our front door.

Time can feel different at this age. So, it’s important to keep feeding my emotional, spiritual, physical, and mental selves.

What this can look like:

• Plan trips and vacations and take them.

• Go to the gym, especially when I don’t feel like it.

• Wear sunscreen. (read a famous Kurt Vonnegut graduation speech here)

• Try to get a good night's sleep.

• In moments where aging feels difficult or challenging, look for ways, even in the smallest of ways to invite gratitude. What this can look like is I may not be able to do things in the way that I used to be able to, and I am still able to do them. It’s just different. It’s not less than. It’s not negative. It’s just different. So it’s up to me on how I look at it. I’m not too late. Neither are you.

I currently have the privilege of facilitating a twice a month grief group that has a core of five members. They are all in their 70s. One of them recently said that that group had become a lifeline.

They connect with each other every other week, and the check-in is the greatest support. It’s the holding space. It’s the social aspect of the gathering. They often bring treats for one another. One of them has become an avid gardener and leads volunteers in maintaining a community garden at a local church, a thing of beauty, a sanctuary.

It’s not about speed. It’s not about over the top spending. It’s about slowing down and being intentional, about how we want to spend our time and challenging how we are spending our time to go in the direction we want to go. This takes practice. 

Regardless of how much time there is.

We watch those who are 10 and 20 years older than we are or more for guidance, for signs. It’s an opportunity to put notes to self in building the emotional and spiritual fortitude that aging may require. Gratitude is an action step available at any time during this process.

Like noticing the symphony of fireflies that dance in our front yard, a multitude of them, on these June nights, leaving us in quiet awe.

Like the way our cat, Basho, smells like sunshine after he’s been sleeping on the porch like a teenager sleeping in on Saturdays.

Like how we love where we live and want to be there, that caring for it is a privilege.

Like the ability to drive to see great nieces and nephews, small children, and hearing their wisdom and playing with them. That laughter is good medicine.

Like being of service in a variety of ways.

Like gathering with family and being grateful that we all can travel to one another and are still here to appreciate that gift.

This is a good list. I could go on! What would you add?

Try this:

• What are your notes to self currently?

• What notes to self have you already put in your tool kit?

• What shift might you want to make?

Let me know how it goes! I’d love to hear from you. You can send me an email to fsconsulting2013@gmail.com.