I am not allowed to forget that I am aging.
Every day, simple, gentle reminders: a new gray hair, a hip that hurts ever-so-slightly when I sit cross-legged, the facial lines that were not there five years ago.
But this week, gentle nudges became prickly needles.
My husband’s aunt is on her umpteenth health battle and may not have the strength to make it through one more.
Both my father and my husband’s father were told that they had suffered heart attacks sometime in the last few years.
They are all in their seventies.
They are just 30 to 35 years older than me, give or take.
30 years.
That I’d be blessed to have thirty more good years is a sobering realization. Yes, I live more healthily than my relatives. I’ve had the benefit of preventive care. But in the end, there’s a good chance that age 43, I’ve lived about half or more of my life.
The middle point.
I recall a night sometime around 1982, when I was 13 or 14. My friends and I had gathered for a sleepover at someone’s house. We were having a dance party. “Hey, Jude” came on and we all locked arms and sang the song at the top of our lungs.
While we were once removed from the Beatles generation, it was still an anthem.
So it felt awkward to watch Sir Paul McCartney take the stage at Friday night’s Olympic ceremonies. Drawn and old he looked. He still rocked a pretty nice version of the song, but the prickly needle came when the camera switched to the reactions of the smiling young Olympians, dancing and hugging.
None of them were singing the lyrics to Hey, Jude.
It doesn’t matter whether they didn’t recognize the song at all, or whether it’s simply “an oldie,” and not an anthem.
The song itself was irrelevant to them.
The song is past its middle point. Those Olympians are not its audience.
But it was symbolic. The passing of the Olympic torch is meant to mark the connection between the ancient games and the modern games – the handing off, if you will, between the old and the new.
And perhaps that’s what Hey, Jude was – a handoff from one generation to the other.
I am at the middle point of those generations, too. I am neither of the generation passing on, nor the generation beginning anew.
It is an odd place to be, the middle point. One’s body is conflicted – hurting yet still feeling 16 inside – as much as one’s memory alternates between being vividly accurate and utterly lacking.
There is nothing to do but find a way to comfortably settle in to this unfamiliar place. I know that for the next group of years – I’m not sure how many – I may be straddling that fence between age and youth, my one side gradually tipping ever-so-slightly toward the side of age until I eventually fall off and become officially Old.
I’ll know that moment not by the gray hairs or advancing pain in my hip. I”ll know it when someone of my generation takes the stage and sings OUR song.
About the Author Gigi Ross
I'm a blogger, social media geek, mom and wife, foodie, reality TV addict and Jason Mraz fangirl. Not in that order. I write here about parenting, blogging, technology, social media and pop culture.
{ 18 comments… read them below or add one }
I’m sorry about your husband’s aunt. May she have a complete recovery, and live many, many more years.
This age thing has also been creeping up on me. I hurt my foot recently (it’s very minor, thankfully), but the pain has lingered, reminding me that my body is not getting any younger.
Also, I was talking to my dad about preparing some songs for a performance at a senior living center. He suggested picking songs from the 40s, 50s and 60s. That just seemed too recent to me. Those are songs from his generation. It leads to thoughts about mortality that I’m not quite ready to face yet.
I’ll sing along to Hey Jude with you.
I wasn’t prepared to think about mortality so soon. I guess I thought it would come way later, but here it is. And yes, my body’s lack of resiliency? Is just crazy. Even zits don’t go away as fast as they used to
We can’t catch and stop time because this is the only thing in all people’s life which teach many things to them and we should try to learn as soon as possible in life.
Yes, very true. But I still want to stop time anyway
It pained me to see those young Olympians, with their deer-in-the-headlights smiles frozen on their faces as the cameras panned to them, NOT singing along to “Hey Jude.” I was watching the opening ceremonies with my parents and I turned to my mom and said, “They don’t know the words to the song. How can you not know ‘Hey Jude’?”
The older I get, the more comfortable in my own skin I become – despite the aches and pains. But I still get nostalgic for the “good ‘ol days.” You’re right – it’s an odd place to be, this middle ground.
Aging is a bittersweet process.
Kristin @ What She Said´s last [type] ..5 Tips for Surviving Flu Season with a Kid in Daycare
I am SO glad I wasn’t alone in noticing it! I was up alone and just sat there with my mouth open.
It made me really sad. Someday, 20 years from now, those Olympians are going to be watching the Olympics and saying, “GOD! I can’t believe none of those youngsters sang the words to I’m Sexy And I Know It!”
That makes me even MORE sad
Perhaps it’s hormones (my fall back excuse), the fact that I have only had one sip of coffee this morning or that my high school reunion has just passed but, this made me tear up.
I was just chatting with my BFF about age. She was ranting about something I wasn’t sure I’d do and said I don’t want us to be 50…then she stopped and said that was way too close and moved it to 60. When exactly did I get close to that?!
But you know what? I feel better in my skin today than ever. Isn’t that the irony? Just as we start feeling good about who we are, who we are starts to change.
I adore this post because it speaks truth and puts it in a way that we can all relate. Now if you’ll excuse me, I need to go cry into my coffee.
oxoxox
Sili´s last [type] ..My 20th High School Reunion
Exactly: just as we start to get to a good place, we change. So frustrating, so frustrating.
Gigi – I can so relate to this post and the words you have written are the words that have been swirling through my mind for the past few years.
In my professional life of health care provider, I see chronic illness, injury and death every day. But, now the people that are passing away are not that much older than myself. This is definitely something that stops me in my tracks and makes me take notice of being “that age” when things start to happen.
My parents are aging before my eyes. I know that in the very near future, I may be caring for them. My relatives are leaving at an alarming rate. And I find myself wishing for those family gatherings that I didn’t want to be bothered with in my youth.
I find myself thinking of how I want things to be different, where and how I want to live and what I want to do with “the time I have left”. And the realization that comes to me that I am 45 years old. How did that happen? Yes, like you, I still feel about 20, in my head. And I am starting to have regrets for things I did not do, because I thought I had plenty of time for that later. Now, it is past “later” and a sense of panic starts to set in.
I feel the need to sit down and seriously evaluate where I have been and how I came to be “here” through the decisions I have made. Or not made. And maybe taking the easy way was not necessarily the right choice. And, I see these younger kids with their whole future in front of them and wish I had my brain and maturity level that I have now, at their age.
Bah. Now I want to go cry in to my coffee like the previous comments
Either that or go buy a little red corvette.
Thanks for your comment, Laurie. Yes, I feel that same sense of panic over things I set out to do and haven’t. Places I wanted to travel in particular. And I wonder if it’ll ever happen now.
I never really understood what “midlife crisis” meant. I thought it only applied to men who, as you said, go out and buy a red corvette and start dating younger women. but it’s more than that. It’s really just about assessing where you’ve been and how you got there. And then? WE get menopause to look forward to after that
When I turned 40, I took on some challenges and newness that has rendered this is my best decade so far.
Without exaggeration or false optimism.
And yet.
I too am 43. And you are right that we are in The Middle Point – undeniably. As good as I feel now, as strong, competent, hopeful, it is inevitable that this will end.
Far sooner for us than for someone who is 23.
So you are wise to be mindful of this truth. And I am hoping to be purposeful in my appreciation of this time.
However.
I am also watching my parents kick ass in their sixties.
They are fit and happy in their retirement; their days are full – of ONLY the stuff they want to do.
So perhaps we are forging a new era where The Middle Point doesn’t lead so soon into that good night but instead is a long and winding road (see what I did there?) of DOING FOR OURSELVES for the first time in our lives.
Fingers crossed…
Agreed – I have been trying to be more appreciative of the time I have as well. Sunday, instead of sitting my ass in my chair at the beach, I got up and played frisbee with my kid for an hour – because I was thinking about this whole topic and how I needed to just savor the day.
It is awesome that your folks are so vibrant in their sixties. mine were, too – and that is what makes seeing them struggle quite a bit more in their seventies so hard.
I try to have a good attitude about what’s to come, but I can’t seem to embrace it as fully as I should with what’s surrounding me right now. I think it’ll be something I always struggle with
It’s funny, because I know I’m aging, but I don’t feel old until things like this happen. Or until my husband’s doctor starts bringing up possible heart issues because of family history. It’s a strange feeling to be in this place between old and yound; it really is.
angela´s last [type] ..Breaking Through Teacher Stagnation
I find the moments happening more frequently. Sometimes, I think I can literally feel my skin hanging off my face and I wonder, how did I get here?
I sat in disbelief that those “kids” did not know the words. MY kid knows the words, and sang them at his first concert –Sir Paul in the (wrinkled) flesh. Yet my mother-in-law is not sure who he is.
I am with you on the “middle” part. While we’ve dealt with mortality far too often around here, I am not ready to consider my own. Yesterday was my birthday, and I gazed at my face in the mirror and was shocked to notice the mouth lines and the slight sag on my cheeks. That can’t be me. I’m not that old. I still feel as if I’m trying to figure out who I’m supposed to be when I grow up — how can I be THIS grown-up?
Kerry Ann @Vinobaby’s Voice´s last [type] ..Our Dolphin Tale @ Clearwater Marine Aquarium
That’s exactly right…how can we be THIS grown up?
I remember, quite vividly, a week after my 40th birthday, feeling pains I had never felt before. I was pretty shocked. I thought it was all just a big joke people made about aging. I didn’t think I’d really FEEL older at 40, but you better believe that I did. I keep wanting to push those feelings away and not have to think about mortality, but it’s always lingering out there.
Way to make a point Gigi…I also am 43, and I also am experiencing the little aches and pains when I stand after having been seated for a while. I get this same feeling when I’m singing along to a song from the 70s and my kids will say, “I like that song? Can I download it from Youtube?”
Sandra´s last [type] ..Let’s start a different revolution!
I’m 44, and this post definitely hit home for me.
I was at work when “Smells Like Teen Spirit” came on Pandora. My 20-something co-worker remarked, “This is Nirvana, right? My dad likes them.”
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