Finite

"Life is not always a beautiful thing," he told me.

My father-in-law and I were the only two people left in the dining room after we'd finished our pie. He's 87. He's a wonderful man: intelligent, loving, kind, a good listener, attentive, a good socializer, and more.

As he ages, the process affects him profoundly. He's a good listener and attentive, but he now has so much trouble hearing that he sometimes "checks out" of conversations. He enjoys socializing with family and friends, but his failing heart and broken hip limit the number and extent of his visits. He loves his family, but his aging body becomes exhausted and he excuses himself to take naps.

We all recognize these facts as fairly inevitable effects of aging. Knowing that the human body has a finite number of years in which to remain active, at some point, something has to give. Even though we love Bill regardless of his physical condition, he is quite frustrated by it.

Bill's perspective is that, after the age of retirement, many people enjoy their 60s and 70s with the benefits of freedom, financial comfort, good health, and energy. But by the time we reach our 80s, the body begins to fail. Of course, there are always exceptions. But from what I've seen of older relatives, I think he's generally right.

I've seen some relatives whose minds weaken before their bodies. And others whose bodies weaken before their minds. It has led me to wonder which I'd prefer. Sometimes I think I'd prefer for my body to weaken first, because at least I'd still have my mind. I'd be able to enjoy conversations with others, think for myself, be aware of who I am. Yet I might feel that I'm living in my own personal torture chamber, a viable mind confined by a body that can't keep up. Bill is aging this way.

Then I think I might prefer for my mind to weaken first, because at least I wouldn't be very cognizant of it. I'd be in my own world, oblivious to my own failing state. But my relatives wouldn't. From watching spouses and children take care of their loved ones with Alzheimer's or another form of dementia, it's hardest on the families. My grandmother, who is about my father-in-law's age, is currently aging in this manner.

The mental exercise of determining a preferable method of aging is moot, of course. I will do whatever is in my power to keep both my mind and my body active, but in the end, the decision is not mine to make. Genetics plays too large a role, and it reveals itself slowly.

In the meantime, life is a beautiful thing.