The Final Season
This, the new season of my life:
It appears this is the final season of my life. Depressing, oh yeah. Come on, I want to live forever. I always say I want to see how this all turns out. I was told that everyone has to leave the party early at some point. It is a reality. Often, I can be heard saying, “I can’t imagine life without me.”
If you divide your life into the four seasons, it would probably look like this: Spring – birth to early twenties; Summer- ages twenties to forties; Autumn – 40s to 60s; and Winter – the rest of your life. Each phase of life has value, and change is not only natural but essential.
Having retired at the age of seventy-seven, and being in the final season of my life, I find this season to be equally beneficial, if not interesting and exciting. The other seasons offer lots of learning and accepting new ideas and lessons. This season, even though it is at the end, doesn’t disappoint in creating exciting, learning, and interesting lessons and events. You still go on as if this is not the end, but enjoy the freedom to raise a family, excel in new and old endeavors, and take the time to just live. You are allowed to take life as it comes and not sweat the consequences. To me, it is a time of freedom. This freedom does come with a price, such as the loss of my spouse, Art, the ability to ice skate, roller skate, or any of those no-brainer activities that seem to come so naturally when you are at a much younger age. It frees you up from needing to accomplish everything (well, this goes for some people, but has been skipped for me), and the privilege of enjoying the moment. It can give you a good excuse to just be yourself, on your terms, and when you want.
Turns out, it’s mostly forgetting why I walked into a room and celebrating if my pants still fit by noon. I’m not chasing legacies anymore—I’m just trying to stay upright, falling on my face seems to be my new pastime (see the picture), and find joy in things like the crackle of a fireplace, a lobster dinner, and two fuzzy faces loving me up.
So yes, this may be the winter of my life—but at least I don’t have to shovel it. I may forget why I walked into a room, but I now have the wisdom to know it probably wasn’t that important anyway. It appears I’ve wandered into the final season of my life, and guess what, it’s not the one with beach scenes and fruity drinks. Nope, this is more like the season where all your friends are on salads, your knees sound like Rice Krispies, and the only thing getting lit is your heating pad. Depressing? Oh, absolutely. I always said I wanted to live forever, mainly because I’m too nosy to miss how it all turns out. But apparently, everyone has to leave the party early eventually. I just didn’t think I’d be the one driving home before the dessert tray came out.
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