Winter Days

There were warnings, as far back as I can recall.  It was the one and only subject both my Mother and my Mother In Law agreed upon...

“Don’t grow old.”  And they would nod in affirmation as they sat side by side on the white couch sipping their annual holiday Manhattans.  My sister and I would look at each other with a slight smile, and think, “There they go again.”

Growing old was too far away to think about.

But wasn’t it yesterday?

After being housebound these past few weeks due to the weather, I recalled the admonition from both these women.  And I wondered if their fears about aging were different than those of mine and my contemporaries.  Neither one drove nor owned a house so they weren’t concerned about driving conditions or shoveling snow.  Despite both being widowed while still in their fifties, neither one ever lived alone.  One had a sister who dwelt with her until her death; the other’s daughter shared a home with her Mother all her life.  So being alone wasn’t their concern.

Both were blessed with a brief illness (less than a month for each of them) before passing on to their eternal rewards.  Yet they were always uneasy about old age.

Neither one ever expressed a fear of death.  Another thing held in common was their strong faith.  Nothing that gives me angst pertained to them.  The anxiety level of their generation is still equivalent to what some of us share today. 

I have to wonder.  Does it matter what our fears are?  Are they relative to the human condition, changing each generation, but just as viable?

It may not be the worst winter we have ever known.  The month of February has barely begun. Weeks of cold remain.  It has, however, been a time of consistent storms with little intervention of sun and/or warming.  The roads despite the vigilance of the TOB have been perilous, parking lots a challenge, and the isolation of being housebound difficult.  We have more materially than most of our Mother’s generation.  Our apprehensions are different perhaps; loss of independence, being unable to drive, and of course, fear of the Big A.  This was a subject I never heard mentioned by either of the two ladies.

If they were snowbound, they had a radio for companionship and possibly, a black and white TV in their later years.  We are blessed with so many “toys.”  Computers, IPads, IPhones and the undisputed joy of Facetime calls from grandchildren.  Despite all our technical communication improvements, stress is still prevalent. I wish I had thought to inquire about their fears.  I doubt if they would have shared them.  I wonder if our children will have any as they approach a certain time in their lives.  I also wonder if we would share ours.  Perhaps not.  Because we really hope they will only hold placid memories of those who walked before them.

On a bleak winter’s day as I think about the two elderly ladies sitting on the white couch so very long ago, I smile as I remember their determination, resolute opinions and unwavering faith.  And I am motivated.  Then I muse about the heroines who inspired their courage as the winter days of yore dwindled on.  However, now the sun is shining down; the ice is melting, and as Scarlett O’Hara famously said, “I’ll think about that tomorrow.”