The Dark Side of Getting Older

The past several days have been filled with heartache of one kind or another. One of my oldest and dearest friends (granted we rarely talk and never see each other anymore) lost both of his grandmothers within days of each other... while having to celebrate his 25th birthday in-between. My step-father's dad died. And for all intensive purposes my husband lost a man that was a grandfather to him. However, since technically none of these people are family (per my husband's employment) we have remained in NC sending out thoughts, prayers, and love via telephone or email.

All of these happenings have served as yet another reminder that we are getting older. Granted, that may sound strange since I am the ripe old age of 25 and my husband is 28, but never-the-less older is what we are becoming.

We have joked about being old for years…or about 4 years now since that is when our girls were born. Immediately after their arrival late nights came to a halt. No more late dinners or meeting friends for a concert. We go to bed early, wake up early and attempt to accomplish the 5000 things that must be done each day and on the rare occasion we attend a concert we spend weeks planning our departure and care for our now 3 children.

This side of getting older isn't so bad, I rather enjoy it. I like knowing I have roots. With this softer side comes a very sharp and painful side of getting older. Watching those we love and care about pass away is difficult. We have lost family, friends, and friends' family. We begin realizing that not only will we have to face our parents' death but we also face trying to explain such events to our children.

I've tried over the past several months to talk about death and what it truly means to the girls. I wanted them to understand that the bug they step on won't be coming back or that certain actions have consequences that are forever (for example attempting to carry your infant brother across hardwood floors before putting him on the floor).

Speaking with the girls about this has helped them to understand some, but now they have taken on games pretending that one is dead and the other bringing them back to life. When I try to tell them death is forever, you can't be "brought back" Erin looks at me and says, "Well it worked for baby Jesus". I'm left wondering if you truly can explain death to an almost 4 year old. When religion is in the mix and you never are exactly sure of what they understand maybe you just need to close your eyes and hope for the best.

When the time comes that they loose someone they love I just hope that we are able to handle it in such a way that our children take something besides sadness and heartbreak from the experience.

As difficult as it is to loose those we love, remembering the wonderful experiences we shared with them is sometimes the greatest gift…because those can never be taken away from us.