Breaking up with my uterus: Hysterectomy here I come

I know that is an attention grabbing header for a blog post but really, what’s the point in being coy? I promise this won’t be overly graphic or inappropriate, though some might argue that even bringing up the topic is wholly inappropriate. Honestly, it is a major milestone in my life and important enough to be recognized.

                                                             Yes, this is a cake!

Next week I am having a hysterectomy. After years of pain and other obnoxious health issues, my doctors have advised me to consider parting ways with my uterus. It seems the benefits of “staying together” are outweighed by the ongoing health issues it is causing me. 

May years ago, women weren’t empowered enough to discuss “female problems” in mixed company. But let’s face it- it’s 2013 and commercials for drugs to treat male erectile dysfunction and prostrate problems are commonplace. So why not talk about a procedure which a huge percentage of women have each year? It’s nothing to be ashamed of or feel uncomfortable about. It is a procedure which saves women’s lives and gives many of them a new lease on life. I am fortunate not to be having a hysterectomy due to cancer. I’ve been putting it off for many years but now the time has come for a change.

I am not going to get into all the medical jargon or the particulars of the surgery. You can look it up on the internet if you really feel compelled to know. I will only speak to my feelings and thoughts on entering a new uterus-free chapter of my life and the mixed emotions that accompany it. 

First and foremost, I would like to thank my uterus for being instrumental in giving me my three wonderful children. I will be forever grateful to my uterus for accepting and nurturing my embryonic children and giving them the opportunity to grow to full term.

                                         The three fruits of my womb

Unfortunately, besides reproductive function, my uterus has been a handful. So we have to break up. It’s time. I have waited patiently, and tried everything I could think of to make it work between us, but nothing has been successful. It’s for the best. Our time has passed, and I just don’t need you anymore. No hard feelings, nothing personal. It’s just the way it has to be.

The other day I was talking to my physician about the procedure and I have to confess, I got a little choked up. That may sound a little hormonal, so I will try to explain what was going through my head at the time.  

My uterus and I began our real partnership 33 years ago, when I had my first child at the age of 17. Many people don’t know that fact about me, and I am certainly not ashamed of it. So you see, I first began my relationship with my uterus when I was pregnant with my first son. I have three children and all of them were delivered by doctors in the same practice, the one I have been going to for the past 33 years. At the time my last child was delivered, there were three male doctors and one female doctor. All three of my children were delivered by the male doctors, which was not planned but just the luck of the draw. Guess who will be performing my hysterectomy? The female doctor. She will be the one who will close out the chapter of my reproductive life. The circle will be complete. The other three doctors delivered my precious children, and the final doctor is the one who will be delivering me from my ongoing issues with my uterus.

                                                            Me, with my uterus, at 17

I hope it doesn’t seem flippant or disrespectful to break up with my uterus, and for that matter, to write about the break up. It has been a long time coming. I honor the time we’ve shared- our ups and downs, and good times and bad. Just like any other relationship that has ceased to be beneficial or productive, our time has come to part.

Farewell, dear uterus. I can’t say I will miss you, but I honor you and the fruits you have given me. I am looking forward to life without you and the start of a new and exciting chapter of my life. 

Honor Flight: Spending a day with the Greatest Generation changed my life

2010 was not my best year.  I was going through tough times in my personal life and uncertainty in my job. When a friend called me and asked me if I wanted to be a volunteer for an Honor Flight in September, I was thrilled to have an opportunity to do something that would take my mind off my own worries and give me a chance to experience something quite special. There was no way I could begin to know how special that day would be and how it would truly touch my life.

If you don’t know what Honor Flight is all about, I strongly suggest you look into it and sign up for one. Time is running out. There aren’t many left from the Greatest Generation, and every year their numbers dwindle further. 

As I am thinking back on that day, I realize that I am not going to be able to do it justice with this one blog post. There is simply too much to capture. But there is a reason I am writing this now, almost three years later.  Recently, I found out that the man I spent that beautiful day with, recently passed away and I want to honor him once more.

My friend picked me up very early that morning and we headed out to Dulles to meet the “old guys” we would be assigned to escort that day. 

                                                        Waiting to greet the WWII veterans and be paired up. 

My friend had already volunteered at a few times and she explained the whole procedure and what to expect. Depending on the health of my designated veteran, I should expect to have to speak loudly, walk slowly, and patiently listen to war stories. No problem!  I was up for it and prepared for the worst. If my assigned veteran is in a wheel chair, I can push him all day long. I was just grateful to have the chance to interact and connect with one of these men. Little did I know that the man I would spend the day with was like no 89 year old I would have imagined. 

                                 They landed! Getting ready to greet them inside the terminal.

Robert B. Kalnitz. That’s the name I had on my piece of paper. He arrived with his group from Chicago. He was one of the last ones to disembark the plane. They allow the less mobile veterans off the plane first- those in wheel chairs and walkers. But Robert, or Bob as he asked me to call him, stood tall and capable.  

                                       Robert Kalnitz taking my photo as I took his. 

As he walked toward me, I got a deep sense of slight shyness and could see he felt a little uncomfortable with all the attention that was being given to the group. I would come to learn that he was a modest, humble, sensitive man who was deeply grateful for the opportunity to come to Washington, D.C. to see the World War II monument with his fellow Greatest Generation. Bob also was moved by the idea that all the volunteers had, in his words, “taken the day off from work and using their vacation time” to spend with strangers who had fought a war before many of them had even been born.

So we were given a chance to spend time together on the bus from Dulles to D.C. and Bob was so bright and sharp that I soon began to realize that he was unlike most of the others in the group. I asked him the usual “get to know you” questions about his life since the war, what he did in the service, and his family. He answered and engaged me about my life and experiences too. It was delightful and I wasn’t bored for a minute. We had really hit it off, and I felt so fortunate and blessed to have really hit the jackpot by being given this gentleman to spend the day with. 

                                                              Friends already! Enjoying our time at the WWII Memorial   

As I write these words, tears well up as I remember the sweetness of that day. It was perfection from start to finish. The weather in D.C. was simply amazing. Blue skies and lovely sunshine, with a light breeze. Once we got to the monument, we walked around and I took photos. Bob had a camera too and he took snaps of his state monument- Illinois. Seeing all of those old veterans, I couldn’t help but imagine them in their youth and what they had been through during the war. It was especially poignant, and a bit ironic, that Bob had been a flyer who flew missions from England to Germany. I shared with him that my mother had been there, a small child, living in Köln, Germany.

Perhaps Bob had flown over her town. You might imagine that fact may have been something that put some awkwardness between us, but it didn’t in the least. 

                                    Bob showing pride for his home state of Illinois.

There are no accidents. I could have easily been paired with a veteran of the South Pacific or France, but the universe has an interesting way of  teaching us lessons and in those difficult days of 2010, I needed to feel like life had a deeper meaning and that this experience was a gift I had been looking for. 

So we spent that beautiful day together, enjoying an outdoor lunch and talking for hours. We saw the sights and walked the steps of Mr. Lincoln’s memorial. Not all the veterans were able, but Bob was so strong and in such great shape, he was able to keep up very well. As the day wound down, we headed back to Dulles on the bus, and it started to get dark. I shared some of my personal woes with Bob, who was kind and thoughtful with his advice. 

He talked about his marriage and his daughters and grandchildren. That day we shared truly wonderful conversations and we really bonded.

Bob even mentioned me when he spoke to his wife, Shirlie, on the telephone. I felt special and appreciated. How did Bob know how much I needed that feeling? He just did; that’s the kind of man Bob Kalnitz was. 

When it was getting close to the time to say goodbye, I started to get a really big knot in my stomach. I didn’t want to cry, but I had a feeling I was going to do just that. So when they called the veterans to line up to board their plane, Bob and I exchanged contact information and we hugged goodbye. And we both had tears in our eyes. Just like I do right now remembering it. 

We are very fortunate to have things like Facebook and email to keep us connected. Imagine how thrilled I was a few weeks later to receive an email from Bob’s daughter, Leah.

Hi Diana,
I wanted to thank you for your kindness and sensitive attention to my Dad, Bob Kalnitz, during his time in Washington Tuesday. He got off the plane raving about you nonstop. His conversations with you and your interest in and sharing with him were more of an honor to him than the WWII Memorial. He was amazed that you would take a vacation day to spend with an elderly veteran. We are so touched by the generosity of spirit (not to mention time and thought) of all the Honor Flight volunteers. You made a great day even more special, and our family can't thank you enough. 
All the best,
Leah

So Leah and I would touch base from time to time.  I wrote to wish Bob a happy birthday when he turned 90. Life took off for me and I was distracted by my own issues, family, health concerns, and relationship. I changed jobs, got married, and just did all the things we do in our day to day lives. 

I thought of that day, and Bob, often. I encouraged my family and friends to sign up for Honor Flight and I told my mother about the day I spent with the lovely, kind, intelligent, Jewish man from Chicago; who just happened to be an Air Force pilot who flew a bomber over Germany during the war. She also appreciated the rich coincidence and how interesting it was for me to share a day with someone who had lived through a dangerous experience and time. She said I was fortunate to have had such a chance to hear firsthand what that must have been like. And I knew I was.

A few weeks ago, I got an email from Leah. It may seem hard to believe, but her words brought me to tears that would resurface many times since. This is what she wrote:

Dear Diana,

It has been a long time since I've written to you, but it is not because I don't think of you often. I especially have been thinking of you every day recently and every day put off writing this particular e-mail.

I am very, very sad to tell you that my dad passed away on January 15th. He got the flu towards the end of December and then developed pneumonia and was hospitalized. It was a rampant infection and the doctors couldn't get rid of it and Dad couldn't fight it off. Despite the fact that he was 91.5 years old and we knew we wouldn't have him forever, we simply were not prepared to part with him quite yet. He was engaged, vital, independent, and wonderful--not at all like a man of his years. We all thought he was going to conquer the illness--and he especially did. 

I sit at my Dad's small writing desk just about every day, going through paperwork and helping my Mom. A note in his handwriting with your name and contact information is right there on the desk, sometimes covered in piles of bills and letters. It is a testament to the special place you had in my dad's heart and the impact you had on him that your name and address remained on his desk where he would always see it. I am so grateful for the day you shared together, and I want you to know how meaningful it was to him and to us.

I hope the New Year has begun well for you and that life will be very good to you always.

Sending warm hugs,

Leah

I wrote her back and let her know that I was so deeply and sincerely sorry to hear that Bob had died and how I understood the depth of their loss. You might think it presumptuous of me to think that I knew someone I had only known for a single day, but I believe I got to know the very best of him in those hours and I fully understood what his family meant to him, and what he meant to them. I have no doubt in my mind that his spirit will always be with them, as I feel it is still with me. Certain people in this world have that gift and Bob Kalnitz had it more than most. He was the most decent and righteous kind of man, who had the perfect combination of strength and tenderness, self-dignity and respect for others, and most of all, gratitude and humility for his blessings large and small.

If you ever find yourself losing faith in life or humanity, as I had in 2010, I hope you have the opportunity to reach outside of yourself and do something for someone else. In doing so, you may find- as I did, that in the end you will receive a lesson, a gift, an opportunity that changes you and your perspective on life. 

I challenge you to go out and find that person, or thing, that restores your faith in humanity and lets you see firsthand that good people, really, really, good people, exist and are among us. We just have to open our hearts and minds and invite them in. I did such a thing in September of 2010, and now I am one of the fortunate ones who can say that their life was deeply and profoundly changed by the most unlikely of people, in a completely random encounter.

Many, loving thanks to Bob Kalnitz for the wisdom and advice, and example, he gave me that day. I feel the bond and connection to him even now. I’ll never forget him and I honored to have had the chance to meet him and share a day with him. And thanks to Leah and Bob’s family for allowing me to share this remembrance with all of you.

Robert B. Kalnitz

In his daughter Leah’s own words:

Dad was a First Lieutenant in the Air Force, 305th Bomb Group. He was a B-17 pilot, and his plane was a Triangle G. He was an instructor in Ft. Myers for a year and then was sent to England, stationed at a base about an hour outside London, in Feb. 1945. He flew missions over Germany and perhaps other countries. After the war, he was kept overseas to help photograph Europe to create a map--and also to survey damage, I believe (can check on that). His love of planes preceded his service--he was determined to be a pilot--and continued until his death. Our childhood and even adulthood included going to air shows with him. His grandchildren went, too. He wore his Air Force ring proudly every day.

He and my mom (Shirlie) were married in Columbus, Ohio on Feb. 20, 1944. Next week would have been their 69th anniversary. When they got married, he hadn't yet received his orders and didn't know if he was shipping out overseas. But they heard either that day or right after that he was being sent to Ft. Myers to be an instructor, so Mom went with him and they were there together for a year. I think he left the U.S. right around their anniversary and came home a year later, right around their anniversary.

In honor of my mother: A Mother's Day reflection on Alzheimer's

                                                          My mother and me 1965

This Mother’s Day has more meaning for my family than it has in past years. Our beloved mother, Gisela Ullmann Rodriguez, is still with us in body- but the wife, mother, grandmother, great-grandmother that we have known and loved for 50 years, is not wholly with us this year.

My mother is slipping away from us. There isn’t anything that can be done about it. She has what appears to be a form of Alzheimer’s disease.

It all started around January of 2010. It started with very little things, and it didn’t really become alarming until we noticed she was forgetting birthdays and other details she would NEVER in a million years, have forgotten.

When I was growing up, my mother was one of those “SUPER MOMS” who worked outside the home in addition to being an incredible homemaker. Even after working in an office all day, she had an amazing dinner on the table every single night. We were very proud of the fact that she was a valued professional in the workplace, and she was an incredible role model for my sister and me.

As I got older and became a mother to my own children, I could never understand where she got her drive or energy from all those years. She and my father raised my sister and me to have a very strong work ethic; but I could never believe or understand how she managed to accomplish all the things she did. She was renowned for her drive and ability. She lived up to her German roots and never forgot where she came from.

In addition to being a driven wife and professional, she has always been a devoted and patient mother and grandmother. And while she could be very stern and serious, she has always had a great capacity for love, compassion, and generosity.

She retired in December, 1999, from a very stressful and demanding job as an Office Manager/Property Manager of a local condominium. Sometimes she worked close to 60 hour weeks. It wasn’t unusual for her to be on 24 hour a day call and have to go to work on weekends. Always the consummate professional in every regard, she was a relentless advocate for residents, as well as staff.

In previous posts, I have written about my family. It can’t ever be stated strongly enough that my mother was the glue that held our family together. In her prime, there was no problem too difficult, no issue outside of her ability to cope. In dealing with her daughters and grandchildren, she was often tough, but always fair and compassionate. You didn’t want to aggravate her or make her upset, but even if that happened, she was quick to forgive us and move forward (not so much with my father).

                                                           Gisela Ullmann age 11

My mother, Gisela Ullmann Rodriguez, has been the epitome of the modern woman. Born in Köln, Germany, a couple of years before the onset of World War II; her life began amid chaos, danger, and deprivation.

She came into a tough world at a very tough time. She was a child of war, and that experience has been a defining one throughout her entire life. As a small child, she lived in a world of uncertainty and dread. Her house burnt in a bombing raid and the family had to relocate with relatives far from the city life she was used to in Köln. Her one salvation was the strong extended family bonds and the resilience of her mother’s family, which held them all together throughout the years of deprivation and danger.

When my grandfather returned from his years in a British Prisoner of War Camp, she didn’t recognize him. She was ten years old. War was the thing she knew best, and that had a powerful impact on her.

My mother loves my husband, David, because he is, to her, the embodiment of the things she knows and admires most. She respects and admires his ability to DO things and makes things happen. She has a soft spot in her heart for him because he reminds her of her father- a man with many strength, and weaknesses, a man who knew about war and hardship, a man of action and determination, and a man with rough edges and charisma.

                       My family of origin- father, Pablo, sister, Lisa, me, and mother, Gisela, in 2011

Nothing pleases my mother more than seeing someone do an honest day’s work. It isn’t that she didn’t like to have fun; she just wasn’t very good at it. Relaxation and rest has not been her strong suite. In her world, she reserves the highest respect and admiration for those who provide service to others. She sees something familiar to her in David’s soul that none of us in the family have- a first-hand, personal experience, and understanding of war- and all of its sounds, and smells, and sights. They both have lived in war, and that is a bond that is beyond our comprehension.

I could write a book about my mother’s life. She has led a fascinating one. Nothing glamorous or very exciting, but extraordinary in her ability to confront extreme difficulties and pull together under extremely stressful circumstances.

That is why it is almost unbearable to accept and fathom what is happening to her. It is so unexpected and out of character. How could this happen to someone who was so detail-oriented and never, ever, forgot ANYTHING?! She remembered EVERY friend’s birthday and anniversary. Her memory was almost annoying, as she rarely forgot even the most mundane details. Her mind was truly like a steel-trap.

And now, more and more, she can’t recall what happened 20 minutes ago. Sometimes the things that happen in life are crueler than you could have imagined possible. Because the worst part of it is that the things she remembers most vividly are those things that happened during her difficult childhood- war, separation, loss, and family. I fear for a day when that is all she remembers.

So we are grateful to still have our beloved mother with us. We still enjoy her company, and she enjoys us. We have to adjust, and that is a character-building experience. Is it ever? We aren’t alone. There are millions of families who have, or are, or will be, going through what we are now going through. We take it a day at a time. Our love and our time is more precious than ever. Each day she remembers is a cherished gift. We don’t squander it as we did. We don’t take it for granted.

                                  Pablo and Gisela Rodriguez - beloved parents and grandparents

What will become of us when they’ve gone? A family love story

                                                     Gisela and Pablo Rodriguez

No one likes to think about death, whether it is their own or someone close to them. No one likes to think about the death of their parents, or their grandparents. In our family, that is especially true. We have been blessed with an amazing set of parents/grandparents, and the idea of them not being with us is almost too much to bear.

I am very fortunate that I still have both of my parents and they are in relatively good health. They are both in their mid seventies and we are a very, very, close family.

I am the older of two daughters, born to two immigrants. I was born in Washington, D.C. in the early 1960s, and my sister was born in Alexandria, Virginia, in 1969. We were NEVER a “regular” family in that I don’t ever remember knowing a family like ours.

My parents are two of the most hilarious, (though often, not on purpose) interesting, cultured, diverse, and warm people you would ever hope to meet. Seriously, they truly are. And to be lucky enough to be one of their children or grandchildren is beyond imaging. They are, for all their many faults and maddening idiosyncrasies, fun, generous, thoughtful and all-around wonderful. That doesn’t mean they didn’t have a part in the neurotic messes that we all are, but as we used to say, “We may be dysfunctional, but at least we know it!”

My parents came to the United States, from Germany (mother) and Cuba (father) in the late 1950s. They are self-made people who worked incredibly hard, but never lost their sense of humor (now remember my mother is German) or their optimism.  Their sacrifices and dedication enabled us to have the rich and full lives we are blessed to live.

                                                              Me, my father, my sister

Of all the wonderful gifts they gave us, the gift of optimism is probably the most valuable. Giving up or quitting was not an option. When faced with challenges or situations which seemed overwhelming, I often would ask my mother how to cope. She would look at me and say, “You don’t have a choice; you just have to keep on going.” Seems simplistic, but I understood what she meant and I have taken that advice on many dark and difficult days.

My father is the original “one man Mardi Gras” and we have been blessed to have inherited his gift of humor and absurdity. We may be loud, and can argue fiercely at times, but we laugh harder and louder than most families I have met. We laugh at life, ourselves, and one another; but not in a mean or spiteful way.

My parents are so incredibly different that there is NEVER, EVER, a dull moment. The most mundane experience is riddled with humor, and we are blessed to be able to laugh through tears- even when things are very tough. Every family goes through difficult, often heartbreaking, times and moments. We have had more than our share. But, we have always managed to cling together and work though the pain and grief. We laugh, we cry, we talk, we hug… and start all over again.
That is why the thought of losing them is so hard. Who will fill those shoes? How will we laugh without them? They both have their “role” in the family show!

                                                      Me, my granddaughter, my mother

Oh, the family “show”, as we call it. Everyone has their role and it has the funniest dialogue you can imagine. My mother is the often stern, but incredibly kind and protective, one. She truly is the lioness to my father’s lion. She will fight for her family and do anything to help one of us. She is the one who has been the rock of the family and held us all together, even when we didn’t want to be. She was the patient and sensible one when we weren’t so patient or sensible. She believed in all of us, even when we didn’t earn that belief. And though she may have been madder than hell, she has loved us and never lets us forget how much. Her “lines” aren’t meant to be funny, but somehow we all laugh in spite of how serious she tries to be.

My father is like no one else in the whole world. He is funny, handsome, talented, jovial, and ALWAYS positive. Yeah, yeah… everyone says that about their own father. But if you ask people who know him, they will verify this claim. He is just an incredibly unique, charming, and all-around marvelous person. My poor mother has often “lived in his shadow”, but only because he is so much larger than life, and she is the epitome of class, correctness, dignity, and style. She has let my father shine and be more than she has been, because she didn’t feel the need to compete or prove her worth. She knows who she is, and she is fine just as she is. A lesser woman could not have managed it with such grace. I admire and respect her for that.

                                                    My mother, Gisela Ullmann Rodriguez

My mother is a woman of immense self-respect and has done more good for other people in her life than most ever do. She has been very happy to be a dutiful wife and mother, AND a hard-working and successful professional as well. She was the SUPER MOM before being the Super Mom was cool. Even with a full-time job, she had dinner on the table EVERY NIGHT of the week. I could never live up to her achievements in her dedication to her family, but in reality, I don’t think she wanted me to. Her own example and they way she has lived her own life encouraged my sister and me to become interesting and knowledgeable people. We were “strongly” encouraged to study and work hard, and become whole and complete women.

The diversity in my household has provided us with enough funny stories, hilarious vignettes, and riotous memories to fill many books. Anyone who has experienced a meal with our family can testify to the colorful and often confusing banter. Even after being together for more than 50 years, my parents still have a great deal of miscommunication, which provides the audience with more than enough laughs to split your gut. Some of it is gender-driven, some of it is language-related, and most of it is just that they are as different as night and day. As I said, there is never a dull moment!

                                                             My father, Pablo Rodriguez

My family has been very fortunate to have been able to enjoy our close ties and the great fun we have with one another. We are a very odd and funny bunch. We fight hard, but we love even harder. We have all the other problems and issues that other families have, but we are very lucky to have a crazy, interesting, and never boring cast of characters that keep life very interesting.

I treasure all the memories and I hope we are blessed with many years to come with my parents. They aren’t just parents and grandparents to us. They are beloved friends whose company we will dearly miss someday when they aren’t with us any longer.

In a family, love doesn't always mean agreeing or understanding

Being part of a family is unlike any other relationship experienced in life. A person can choose their friends, job, clubs and organizations, hobbies, and even a spouse. But, you can’t choose the people who are often closest to you- your relatives. This can be one of the best, and the worst, aspects of family.

Attempting to get along with siblings is one of the first lessons most people learn growing up. In childhood, squabbles and fights are common, accepted, and to be expected. As a person gets older, the terrain can get rockier and more perilous. Trying to understand and get along can be one of life’s most trying and frustrating lessons. It can be very challenging to get along with people you have nothing in common with or try your last nerve.

It is one of life’s greatest mysteries and challenges attempting to understand those closest to us. How is it that people who grew up in the same household, or were raised by, or have the same DNA, can be so different? Family relationships can be exhausting and discouraging, but well worth the effort.
It isn’t essential for parents to completely understand, or accept, all the choices their children make, in order to love them. The same is true for siblings.

Most important is to keep in mind that all individuals in a family have a right to their own lifestyle and pursuit of happiness. It isn’t for any family member to tell another how to live their life, barring any obvious dangerous or destructive choices.

Focusing on the love and the importance of the family connection is vital. How often is there a heart-wrenching tale of a divided family which fought and fussed for years over differences of opinion, only to have a loved one die and never to have been able to make amends? It is usually in hindsight that people understand that life is too short to seek arguments over situations which are not in agreement. Not being able to understand another person’s choices does not preclude love and respect. Giving an open and loving heart, without judgment or conditions, can be challenging, but well worth the effort.There are very few instances in life when you can happily surrender the small picture for the greater good.

You don’t have to agree with, or like a person, to feel great love for them as a member of a family. Familial love is one of the greatest and strongest bonds a person can experience. It defies logic and reason. It stands up to great adversity and shows amazing resilience. It can be one of the most selfless and inspiring examples of love and kindness. Familial love is not something easily explained. It is better to be experienced.

Nurturing and caring for familial relationships is something everyone can always seek to improve. Family is the greatest and most powerful concept human beings from every corner of the planet, can understand and experience. It endures when temporary things, like wealth, health, glory, and youth, fade. Feeling frustrated, or annoyed, is a small price to pay for the enduring blessing of a relationship with a beloved family member.

Loving Siblings

Originally written for Examiner.com http://www.examiner.com/adult-children-in-washington-dc/in-a-family-love-doesn-t-always-mean-agreeing-or-understanding

Six months till half a century

One of the most used clichés of all time is "Life is short". And it is true. I never realized how short until fairly recently. I have been thinking about time and age and life and death a great deal of late. Probably because in exactly six months from today, I will turn 50 years old. Half a century! How does that happen?  Where does the time go?
 We don’t think about it very much, but about 100 years ago, a large portion of people never made it to 50.  
Here is a list of 59 people who didn’t make it to age 40.

By today’s standards, 50 is considered very young to die, and is still considered “middle age”.  I have an uncle who is almost 94. He  turned 50 forty- four years ago! That really puts it in perspective. But consider that there are still many people who never make it to 50 and that in certain regions of the world, 50 is considered old because the life expectancy and quality of life is radically different from what it is in this country.
Global life expectancy tables

So, here I am, looking 50 right in the face. My last 6 months of being in my 40s. The last decade has been an amazing adventure. As an example, I will share some of the highs and lows of the last decade:

I started working for the Department of Defense, which changed my professional life

I met, fell in love, and married my husband

I became a grandmother, twice

My youngest child turned 18 and my two older children got married and “grew up”

I began to fulfill my lifelong dream of becoming a professional writer

I accomplished many personal and professional goals

I experienced the death of a grandchild

I embrace a life of sobriety

I have had my spiritual and “religious” faith tested and have maintained and grown in it

I have watched both of my parents retire

I have seen friends and co-workers die, some at a very young age

I experienced 9 months of unemployment in 2009

I have seen the world change and technology grown in ways I could never have expected

As I approach my half century, I feel intense gratitude, love, joy, optimism, strength, pride in my personal and professional accomplishments; and I look forward to many more years with my loved ones and friends. I am not afraid of getting older, looking older or even feeling a little older. I am embracing and accepting that aging is inevitable and I rejoice in it.

Getting older doesn’t have to be a negative or depressing event. Quite the contrary! Consider the alternative- death. And although that too is inevitable, I am not focusing on it. I hope to have many more years to spend with my family, husband and loved ones. I have been fortunate and blessed in my life and I accept that when the time comes, I will be ready. I am thankful for the last 50 years and hope for a future that will allow me to continue growing and learning and becoming the person I was born to be.

I am so thankful for the last 50 years- the good, the bad, the ups and the downs. I have experienced incredible joy and devastating losses. I have seen the best life has to offer, and the absolute worst. But I can't complain because I have LIVED, and loved, and fallen and risen. I have made terrible, aching mistakes and I have triumphed over incredible adversity. 

I look to May 12th, 2012 with a sense of wonder and great humility, and I hope and pray that the   future will allow me to continue growing and learning and becoming the person I was born to be.