Home > Uncategorized > Nobody Gets Out Alive.

Nobody Gets Out Alive.

I’m old now.  They don’t tell you that it hurts to be old, but it does.  In more ways than one.  Normally, it is painful to rise in the morning.  The dormant period through the night lets the old joints and muscles temporarily atrophy, and the first hour in the morning is quite painful, ’til things get limbered up.

The physical hurt isn’t the only pain.  There’s emotional discomfort, too. Everybody dies, and when one gets as old as I am, many of the deaths are friends and relatives who have not been as long-lived and I am.  I don’t know if they are fortunate to have gotten out of life sooner, or if I am more fortunate to be still going.  Maybe there’s another decade or two on the books for me, and I don’t know if I want them.

Several of my cousins, with whom I grew up, have died.  My old buddies, from the days of hot rods and chasing girls, are gone.  One of my brothers, younger than I, has passed.  I feel threatened by the possibility of that my remaining brother might predecease me.  That would leave me alone in the world, in terms of blood relatives.  There’s my children, of course, busy with their own lives and relationships, and I’d rather pass away than become a financial or emotional burden to them.

The most painful and unanticipated loss is that of the old girlfriends.  Those pretty girls in their felt skirts, bobby socks, saddle shoes and crinolines that I dated for school dances, house parties, sweet sixteens, and weekend movie dates, are dead or dying.  My ex-sister-in-law, twin of my ex-wife, is dead, and my ex-wife is in failing health as well.  She’s the mother of my children, and I can’t help feeling badly about it, even though my kids are now adults nearing fifty years of age.

What if I’m the last to go?  What might my final years be like?  I hope I’ll at least still be able to ride my motorcycle.

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