Growing Older is Hard

This is not a post about vanity, the loss of hair, the newly-formed wrinkles, the sore muscles, the need for a mid-day siesta. It is about the loss of life and of love, the passing of an era. A few night ago my wife's grandmother died, the last of our grandparents to go. She was a tough, feisty, bright woman, an independent and free spirit who was ahead of her time. She traveled abroad as a young woman, falling in love with France in general and Paris in particular. This ultimately led her to become a French teacher, speaking the language that became her favorite tongue until the end. We always thought that if she cognitively lost it and resorted to a single language, French would be the language she'd speak.

I met her in France when I connected with my then-girlfriend during a trip with a couple of my college buddies after graduation from Michigan. My now-wife was on a trip to France and Israel with her "petit grand mere," diminutive in stature but large in spirit, for a little grandmother/granddaughter bonding. I took a four day diversion to spend time with my new girlfriend, and had the pleasure of spending some time with her beloved grammy while in Paris. I brought grammy flowers at her hotel, had lunch together in the Jardin de Luxembourg and dinner together at a wonderful restaurant called Le Petit Zinc. Though this was over 20 years ago it feels like it was yesterday.

Grammy's speech at our engagement dinner over 15 years ago was very memorable, a time at which she said such beautiful things about my then-fiancee it made me smile a mile wide. She also really loved me, which was a special gift since I never had that kind of a relationship with my grandparents. She doted on my wife, providing her with another source of love and emotional support beyond her parents. It was a beautiful thing to see, the mutual love between my wife and her grandmother. Such a special, priceless gift.

She was 91 when she finally gave up. The last years of her life weren't particularly pleasant, being confined to a wheelchair and losing the mobility and active lifestyle that characterized the lion's share of her full and rich life. In my mind's eye I don't see her in the nursing home but sitting at the piano, playing silly songs at Thanksgiving that had all the grandchildren, both by blood and by marriage, dancing around and acting like little kids. I see her playing Trivial Pursuit and Scrabble with the family and with my sons, displaying her powerful memory and language skills for all to see. To be sure she was far from perfect; everybody is. But she had an array of positive qualities that left a strong imprint on me, my wife and my children. And I will always be thankful that she had a place in our life. This is the first relative that my children have lost in their lives, and it will not be the last. I wish I could be more at peace with the passage of time and its consequences, but it is very, very hard.

Comments

[delinde]

Le Petit Zinc still exist : http://www.petit-zinc.com/
11 r St Benoît 75006 PARIS

* 01 42 86 61 00

[phil]

thanks roger.

while we are celebrating the birth of our second son, my father's health is failing... as u can imagine, my range of emotions over the past 10 days has been extreme..

i appreciate yr post and find support in our shared experiences...

[Reason]

You seem like a fellow who likes to do something about the limits and barriers that challenge. You should take a look at the work of Aubrey de Grey and the Methuselah Foundation:

http://www.amazon.com/Ending-Aging-Rejuvenation-Breakthroughs-Lifetime/dp/0312367066/

http://www.mfoundation.org/sens/

[Paul Rubillo]

My deepest sympathies go out to you and your family.

[Greg Battle]

Please accept my deepest heartfelt condolences in your family's time of bereavement.

[Yaser Anwar]

Sorry to hear about this. Hope all is well.