DIMI IS
DYING: REFLECTIONS ON AGING AND GRIEVING
Our little dog is dying and
it is heartbreaking to see him wandering around aimlessly, trying, I’m sure, to
figure out what’s happening to him. He
has been a good friend and has brought much joy and happiness to our lives. We feel privileged to have had his
companionship for the past fourteen years, and it will be gut-wrenching to put
him down. He has lost control of his
bodily functions; he stands in the middle of rooms, staring into space; and
wakes up from his deep sleeps, disoriented and puzzled. It is agonizing watching him
disintegrate. It will soon be time to
say goodbye.
Arleah and I have felt, for
some time, that we are dying. We have
acknowledged that we are in the last part of our life – it is not grim, nor
depressing. It is sobering, sad, full of
loses. We grieve a lot – for all the
places we’ve been, for all the people no longer in our lives, for the places
we’ve lived. We have by no means given
up on life. We still love our work, and
feel lucky to start people down the path of personal growth, and help others
make profound changes in their lives.
It is almost impossible to
explain to people what it’s like to get old.
It’s not pretty. There’s a saying
we learned, when we were living in Montana, that sums up the experience –
“There are no happy endings in nature.” The changes are enormous. Arleah and I have been risk-takers and goal
setters throughout are lives together.
But aging has tempered our risk-taking and our goals have a shorter
window and are much less cosmic. That
has been difficult to accept.
My work is more impactful
than it’s ever been, and aging has allowed me to discard the burden of
humility. I am extraordinarily good at
what I do. I discover where people are stuck
and what they need to change, with amazing speed and accuracy; and that feels
enormously gratifying. Most people find that very helpful; some find it too
much, too soon.
Other people, viewing us
through a traditional prism, can run the gamut from irritating to
insulting. Most service providers over
simplify their explanations of what they’re going to do, and talk way too
loud. I find myself regularly advising
people that I have had a number of surgeries, but none of them have been
lobotomies.
All in all, becoming an old
person has been an ironic experience. As
we face the end, the opportunities to start anew are plentiful and
intriguing. Knowing us, we won’t be able
to resist the challenge.
Morrie, At 76
November, 2018
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