Below Par

My mom died at 65...my dad at 68...that means the odds of my making it to 70, aren't that great. I'm now 53...

Shortly after my mom's death, I was meeting friends for dinner at a local restaurant.

As I was carefully walking on patches of ice I saw an elderly lady trying to maneuver the parking lot. It was February in Utah...very cold and lots of snow and ice....I was very melancholy and missing my mom....I took her arm and asked if I could help her to her car.

I mentioned that I had recently returned from my mother's funeral and thought that she had died too young.....that life would be very lonely without her.

As we reached her car she turned to thank me and then in a voice from experience said: "Dying young can be a blessing dear....getting old is the shits...".

I've never forgotten this woman's graphic honesty....and looking at her I knew she had a point. Life isn't all that great if you can't enjoy it.

Last week as I was leaving for work, I noticed my neighbor Mary walking around the circle. Mary's husband, a Doctor passed on several months ago. He had been bed ridden for a very long time and slowly his body shut down. He refused visitors when he lost control of his bowels. He felt that life had taken all his dignity. For him death came too late.

I remembered hearing that Mary had been in bed for several days due to fractures in her spine from osteoporosis, so I wanted to take this opportunity to talk with her.

As I walked out to greet her I was once again reminded of my talk with the woman at the restaurant.

Mary was stooped over...her permanent posture since I've known her. We talked....she said that she was in incredible pain but unable to take any drugs due to stomach and esophagus problems. I used to bring her breads and roast dinners on Sunday....she said she was now only eating plain white rice and mashed potatoes. I mentioned that I had stopped by the other day and realized now that she was probably in bed....she said that her hearing is all but gone and often doesn't hear people at the door.

She pulled up her blouse and showed me the bulging vertebrae...I counted six. Some days she said, you just wish there was a switch that you could turn off.....Mary is not having fun...she's ready to go home.

I don't know the number of years that I have left, but if my health fails me and life just isn't fun anymore, then I hope God takes me swiftly, for I am certain that there are many things worse than dying young......