LUCY BURDETTE: you’ve heard me say that one of my favorite writers is Barbara O’Neal. I’m reading her latest, Memories of the Lost, and trying to make it last longer so I don’t feel the sadness of it ending. I follow her sub stack and really loved a recent post, which she agreed to share with us. Welcome Barbara!
BARBARA O'NEAL: My sister, a lifelong nurse, visited me last week. We were talking about aging in general, and our mother in particular. I made an off-hand comment that I supposed everyone gets frail in their 90s.
My sister said, most emphatically, that that wasn’t true at all. She sees lots of very aged people in her work, and sees a lot of 90-somethings who are quite vigorous, who live their lives the same way they always have, doing things, traveling, having adventures.
I blinked. A huge sense of…potential bloomed in my body. Expansion.
In that instant, I realized that the idea of looming frailty has weighing on me in the weirdest ways. My mother is in her early 80s, but she’s suddenly facing frailty from a dozen directions. I guess my mind was casting me into that 80-year-old frail role, too. My cats are getting older and I think about what it would be like to get new kittens, and then my brain says, but you’re getting up there, and who will take care of the cats if something happens to you?
I worry about how long we’ll get to stay in this beautiful home by the beach, and if the medical care will chase us back to a city. I wonder how long I’ll be able to do the vigorous travel I love so much.
All of this has very much in the back of my mind, not anywhere in view, but until we had this conversation, I had not realized how much I’ve been imagining myself frail at 80. While it’s fine to be practical and make arrangements for alternative outcomes (and I think it’s smart to do that), I don’t want to live in that space of vague dread.
None of us know when something might befall us—an accident or a random disease or whatever—but in our 30s and 40s, we don’t keep looking up at the scythe hanging over our heads. We just go about our lives, make plans, looking forward to things we anticipate doing.
I want to return to that sense of spaciousness, claim it, as my sister-in-law used to say. I claim a vigorous old age. I am visualizing lots more time to raise kittens, travel, explore long walks on my beach and around the world.
My sister said that people who stay active stay strong. Which we already know, but it was a great reminder. I can focus on more exercise, less extra weight, more activity, tons of great nutrition. I’m going to start looking for examples of vigorous older people and focus on them. There are many in my community. My neighbor is almost 78 and she’s planning a hike on the Coast to Coast walk in England.
I’m just going to live without looking up at that scythe and imagine a great future. What if I’m still writing a book every (other) year, traveling with my husband, enjoying my many grandchildren on active vacations in my 90s? What if, like Esther Hicks says, I thrive, thrive, thrive, croak?
Does aging weigh on you? If you allowed yourself a sense of wonder, what might you see?
Barbara O’Neal is the author of many titles of women’s fiction, including When We Believed in Mermaids and the forthcoming The Last Letter of Rachel Ellsworth. She writes regularly on Substack and lurks heavily on TikTok.
This is so insightful, Barbara . . . I can't say that aging particularly weighs on me; I think keeping up with my grandchildren helps allay that worry!
ReplyDeleteI think you are wise to consider positive aging. We were 81 when we moved to Portugal, and life is good. We've had health issues, as you know (my husband's heart surgery), but we're still going strong, traveling around, enjoying life. I'm sure you will, too, because your personality is young. :-)
ReplyDeleteBTW, I lovee the title of Barbara O'Neal's new book. It's so . . . inviting, intriguing. One that leaps off a bookshelf. I'll look for it.
ReplyDeleteThat was me, Elizabeth
DeleteRoberta, Barabara's essay hit a deep spot today. When we said a sad farewell to our German Shepherd last year, Irwin decreed no more dogs. I think I could have handled and trained another puppy, but he was concerned about who would take him if we couldn't be there anymore. We both know that we must stay active, but it is getting harder to do. That is something that makes me nostalgic because we did so much. I'm going to try not to dwell on it. Sigh.
ReplyDeletePositive aging sounds good to me. One reason I retired early at 50 was because my mom & her side of the family all died in their 60s (or younger). They barely got to enjoy reaching their senior years. Fortunately, I am able to do & go where I want with few health issues. Staying physically & mentally active is the key.
ReplyDeleteOne of the reasons we moved from Minnesota to Florida and chose a 55+ Active Adult Community is to be more active as we age. One of the women I regularly play pickleball with is turning 75 on Monday and another one is 70. I would never have guessed it. One of the certified water exercise instructors is well into her 80’s. No frailty there.
ReplyDeleteI have Ankylosing Spondilitis and some days I feel much older than I am. I tell myself to move it or lose it.
Thanks for sharing that essay, Lucy. I love Barbara's positive attitude and her claiming of a hopeful, active life, and it's good to hear her sister's experience of vigorous old people. As Joan said, keeping up with grandchildren is a great way to stay active and keep the sense of wonder alive.
ReplyDeleteWhile I'm not feeling frail, exactly, I am less nimble and flexible. For all kinds of reasons, I'm not traveling to bucket lists sites as I expected I might. But hey, I can still walk briskly for at least an hour, and I'm hanging onto that!
Lucy, thank you for putting Barbara O’Neal’s thoughts right here, right now. To be in-elegant they are the kick in the butt I need…as I have been feeling fragile, frail, and way older than my 92 year old neighbor as birthday 79 looms. Elisabeth
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