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Introduction: I decline to decline these nouns because attempting to do so would make more obvious the decline of my cognitive functions.
It began when I turned 80. Until then—until that very day—I had been about 60 in my mind. But those two little digits suddenly turned my attention from my present and past toward my future which, for the first time in my life, had limits. It's hard to believe, but until that moment I had given zero attention to the inevitability of personal extinction—aka death. Like, ME. Me. I was going to die some time in the foreseeable future. Ninety seemed like an ending date, and that was only ten years away. Ten years to get my affairs in order (a bit of a joke, that is). I'm not a bucket-list type of person, so I didn't start making notes about projects or trips. No, I just thought: someday soon this will end.
Now, I say this began at 80, which it did. But let me tell you, turning 85 is what revved up the process. 85! Only five years left until 90. Maybe I should revise that ultimate date. Move it to 92, 95—and look! The obits these days feature dozens of deaths at 102, 105, 107. So with that realization, surely I can begin to relax: there's no rush.
Musings blog: http://www.scenesfromthejourney.blogspot.com
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