That is THE question. If we live long enough, we reach that point when the question becomes reality. Unfortunately, for some the reality comes at the point of impact.
As we age our reflexes slow. Our thought processes begin to wander. Our short term memory becomes erratic. Lapses in memory that, when we were young, were humorous are becoming more problematic, not humorous at all. Our livelihood is diminished. We become more dependent upon others. It is simply the natural progression of things.
Or, more aptly, the natural decay or decline of humanity. The reality of what is happening is painfully obvious. Just look in the mirror. The wrinkles. The sagging skin. The greying or white hair. The love handles that truly are not. The prescription meds for high blood pressure, diabetes, thyroid problems, COPD, and the bottles, they do stack up. Oh, and we stumble more.
The 60’s start us considering impending retirement. We have started feeling life or the lack thereof just a bit more. But there’s still time to think about those things later. Truth is we should have started thinking about those things at age 30 not age 60.
The 70’s bring their own special brand of crazy as everything gets just a tiny bit worse. Just add a leaky bladder, farts that are surprisingly not farts, swelling feet, ankles, calves and knees, as well as the stomach that has decided it does not like anything it used to find just yummy and comfy. The taste buds seemed to have left town with the teeth.
The 80’s introduce us to the walker or rollerater. They keep us steady if they are fitted properly to our height and weight. They keep us slightly bent forward and remind us we are less than ….
We are less than what we were and the one place we are fully accepted is that warehouse. Heaven’s waiting room?! Where the dead go to die?! The nursing home, of course. Thinking about it like that does not endear it to our heart.
The 90’s brings more of the same only more intense. The memory has faded. The body is failing. Getting up requires effort. A lot of effort. Waking brings on the, “Oh, my! I’m still here” response. Or something equally repulsive.
At this point, if one is still driving, it begs the question, “How?” We all know why. Driving is freedom. It’s the last vestige of “I’m still viable and alive!” We can get up and still go. We are not dead yet. There are still places to go. People to see and to be seen.
We tend to think more about the hereafter and the here for. We do wonder what we are here for. I mean if I can not do the things I did nor be who I was. What good am I really. The hereafter cannot be ignored as it must be faced by us all.
If there is no relationship with the Creator then there is little reason to be in the here or in the hereafter. But that is the subject of many more discussions.
Back to driving. When do we need to stop driving? When we reach a certain age, or when we reach a certain level of disability? To be frank, disability is probably the way to go. Failing eyesight is the first indicator. If you cannot see, you cannot navigate. Manual dexterity limitations inhibit turning the steering wheel, just as muscle atrophy limits how quickly you can move your foot from the accelerator to the gas or how well you can look behind the car as you back up.
Perhaps if we were not so afraid of the unknown, of death itself, we would not be quite so fearful of the aging (decaying) process. The only way to lose fear of the unknown is to get to know it. Get to know the only One Who can be in control of both life and death.
Observation & Opinion 