Grandma Henke

I didn’t write this … I like it though and I wish I could give credit to whoever did write it.   My sister got it in one of those emails that is forwarded and forwarded and forwarded, and I’m glad she sent it on to me … especially since I haven’t had time to write the last couple of days!   

Old  Age, I decided, is a gift.

I am now, probably for the first time in  my  life, the person I have always wanted to be.  Oh, not  my body!  I sometime despair over my body, the wrinkles, the  baggy   eyes, and the sagging butt.  And often I am taken aback by that  old   person that lives in my mirror (who looks like my mother!), but I don’t  agonize over those things for long.

I would never trade my amazing  friends, my wonderful life, my loving family for less gray hair or a  flatter   belly.  As I’ve aged, I’ve become more kind to myself, and  less critical  of myself.   I’ve become my own friend.

I don’t chide  myself for eating that extra cookie, or for not making my bed, or for  buying that silly cement gecko that I didn’t need, but looks so avante garde on my  patio.  I am entitled to a treat, to be messy, to  be extravagant.  

I have  seen too many dear friends leave this world too soon; before  they understood  the great freedom that comes with aging.
Whose business is it if I choose to read or  play on the computer until 4  AM  and sleep until  noon?


I  will dance with myself to those wonderful tunes of the 60&70′s, and if I, at  the same time, wish to weep over a lost love … I will.
I will walk the  beach in a swim suit that is stretched over a bulging body, and  will dive  into the waves with abandon if I choose to, despite the pitying glances from  the jet set.  They, too, will get old.

I know I am sometimes  forgetful.  But there again, some of life is just  as well  forgotten. And I  eventually remember the important
things. 

Sure, over the years my heart has been broken.  How can your heart not break when you lose a loved one,  or when a child suffers, or even when somebody’s beloved pet gets hit  by a car?  But broken hearts are what give us strength and  understanding and compassion.  A heart never broken is pristine  and sterile  and will never know the joy of being imperfect.

I am so blessed to  have lived long enough to have my hair turning gray, and  to have  my youthful laughs be forever etched into deep grooves on my  face.  So many have never laughed, and so many have died  before their hair could turn silver.  
As you  get older, it is easier to be positive. You care less about what  other people think.  I don’t question  myself anymore. I’ve even earned the right to be wrong. 

So, to  answer your question, I  like being old. It has set me  free. I  like the person I have become.  I am not going to live  forever, but  while I am still here, I will not waste time lamenting what could have been, or worrying about what will be.  And I shall eat dessert every single day.. (If I feel like it)