Aging
Having lost my grandma and being amongst my family, I reflect on what it means to grow up and to grow old.
I recently lost my grandma.
Our Ma passed away on the 13th of October in hospital surrounded by many of us, her loving family. The passing of a loved one triggers a tsunami of emotions and amongst that was reflection upon the memories that we each shared with Ma. In the lead up to the funeral, there were many ceremonies at Grandma’s home and gatherings of the extended family.
As I sat there amongst my extended family, seeing my own children run about the place just as I did when I was younger, I felt a full circle moment. I watch over my son gleefully sprinting down hallways, dodging adults milling about and laughing uncontrollably from cheer playing with cousins; that used to be me. I carefully pull out dining chairs and sit, having conversations and keeping one eye on what chores might need my help. My son jumps from chair to chair and seeks out snacks and drinks.
I was asked to write a speech, to give a speech… to deliver a speech that celebrated and farewell my grandma. What came to mind as I reflected on my fondest memories, was me growing up and it struck me that at some point, we as adults stopped referring to ourselves as “growing up”… Yet that somehow only those older than us are “growing old”. It seems to be relative and that somehow we all think ourselves immune from aging, thinking of ourselves as neither a child or old.
So here‘s a short haiku about aging.
Aging
When is the threshold?
Where we stop growing up and
Yield to growing old.