I Refuse to go Gently

A classmate of mine from high school is dying.  I’m not sure why I find this so surreal as we are 66 years old. But I’m in really good health.  All systems are still on “go” and the only real part of me that is “older” is this body that I live in.  He was part of a group of us that used to get together and throw darts and share a few pitchers at a local bar.

After a while, as with most folks except your closest friends, we all drifted away.  I didn’t even know what he was doing.  Last year or so we reconnected on Facebook.  That means that I knew his politics and that he loved his dog.  I assumed that he was fine.  However, he wasn’t.  He had a bad heart.  He is now being allowed to go peacefully as he had a Do Not Resuscitate order in place.

So, why am I so surprised when someone my age is losing the battle?  I thought about this a lot last night.  I think it is because I am not going gently!  I’m busier and more creative than ever.  My hair is dusted with purple and I got a tattoo last year – and then another!  I wear a lot of hats and like to think that I do it well.  I refuse to think of myself as getting older!  I’m not ready for a rocking chair from Cracker Barrel to be delivered.

I hope that making the most of my days will keep me active and happy for many years to come.  I hope when my time actually does come around I accept it with grace and it treats me with dignity.