Do you want to live till 100? Do you know someone who’s 100? How old is the oldest person you know?
My answers? No. No. 89.
Phyllis is 89 years old. She’s a caring next-door neighbor, an endearing friend, a retired English teacher. She keeps herself busy most of the time: reads a 5-inch thick biography every month, swims at a local health club every week, cooks and cleans every day. But in the past few weeks, she’s been complaining that she doesn’t feel 100%. After a battery of medical tests on her head, heart, nerves, and nothing alarming turned up; she confided to me about her state of mind.
“I’m 89 – I’ve lived a good life. May be I have to accept that I am beginning to lose my marbles a little bit now. I want to make sure my will is updated, including all my children and grandchildren, and everyone will get something. I don’t want… ”
“Phyllis, you still look and sound great!” I jumped in to cheer her up. “I’m happy to hear you talking loud on the phone every day; I am inspired by your reading habit. We love you. ”
While my comments did put a smile on her lips, Phyllis kept her melancholic mood.
From my perspective, I see no unusual signs of sudden mental degradation or physical deterioration. Over the past twelve years that I’ve known her, she ages naturally and gracefully. Yes, she may be forgetting things more frequently, talking louder as she loses her hearing; she is still giving a lot of herself – her time and her care to her family, friends and neighbors. However, I do notice a marked difference in her spirit in recent weeks. Phyllis has been showing a palpable anxiety that suggests something deep within her may be coming off. Perhaps it is her vitality; perhaps it is her zest for life that’s fading away. She’s beginning to give away her old belongings, unopened gifts, openly preparing others and herself for the inevitable to come.
Phyllis is like a surrogate mother to me. A widow with three sons but no daughter, she has been treating me like her own especially after knowing that I’d lost my mother more than 15 years ago. The thought of Phyllis talking about her mortality stayed on my mind this morning during my yoga practice. With my face close to the mat in a downward-dog pose, Evan whispered a few words of encouragement in my ears.
“Keep coming. You do a bit more every day – be steady. Over time, you will build up your strength – key to longevity. You can live till 100! ”
Evan, my yoga teacher who knows me as a newcomer to his 6 a.m. class, clearly wants to incentivize me to stick to this new regimen. So do I, but quite honestly – I’m not sure I want to live till 100.
Watching Phyllis approaching 90 and contemplating the remainder of her days while hearing Evan describing longevity and dedicating his life to yoga practice; I find myself thinking more about the brevity rather than the longevity of our time on earth. I don’t mean to sound pessimistic, but rather realistic about the unpredictability of the length of our years. My personal attitude is to fully engage each passing fleeting moment, living each day as if it were my last. My biggest hope is to be fully present to those around me, recognizing special opportunities to reach out and make a difference in needy places near and far – regardless of how long it may last.