Better than the Alternative

First, I must clarify that ageing does NOT suck. So, when I hear people use expressions like, “Ageing sucks, but it’s better than the alternative,” I bristle.

Second, death is not a failure of the dead nor is it some sort of awful alternative to be avoided at all costs.

I cannot think of these common misconceptions about death without six specific experiences coming to mind.

My dad opted to forego one more surgery in the last days of his life. He knew that the decision meant that he would die within weeks. The surgery had the chance of prolonging his life a year or more. In relating this decision to me, he said that control over his destiny was important to him after decades during which he sustained scores of heart attacks. I remember feeling proud of him for making this tough decision.
My buddy Larry told me to get out of his apartment when we debated his decision to stop taking AZT in the management of his HIV disease. He argued that I looked at his likely death as a failure and that I should stay away until I got my thinking together. A day later, I came back with tail between my legs. While not religious or even a theist, I could hear the refrain: “Death, where is thy sting? Grave, where is thy victory.” He was true to himself; impending death was not the boogey man here. The crushing side-effects of his medications were limiting his abilities to engage in living.
Then, there was Paul. In the 14 years we managed his MS, it would have been easy to focus on what was understood to be a tragedy of the dancer unable to dance, the sculptor unable to shape, the muralist unable to climb a ladder, or the painter unable to manage a brush. Instead, he did his daily barre, squeezed clay, transferred from bed to wheelchair, and tore paper to create a last Valentine for me. An exquisite memory of mine is his scratching earth in the garden and pulling weeds months before he died – living until he was not living. He had twice been told he’d have three years to live at best. While we cherished the 11 year bonus we got, I also recall weeks of gratitude and awe after he died.
Uncles, guncles, or Sabas, too, come to mind. My friends and confidantes Josh and Jay are exemplary guncles who have developed amazing, lively, and engaging relationships with their nephews and nieces. Then there are the over-the-moon generous dads, Patrick and Jason, who have woven me into the life of their son William; I am his Saba. These relationships are many things – awesome, amazing, incredible, spectacular — but among the requirements for each to work is that we age.
Many readers know that I have a tangled relationship with stuff. I neither want it nor need it, but I am quite picky about it. I don’t really care if I have a fireplace, for example. But if it is not functional, I want it to be useful either as a place to store books or a puppet stage for Barbies fighting taxidermized squirrels. I have lots of clothes, too, but if I don’t wear them for a season, I give them away because they are obviously not mine. A lot of my stuff is old, too. I’ve had some eyewear for 45 years. I’ve found couches on the curb. The old stuff lives on, even when it is dead to me. Imagine the joy and imagination old stuff brings to others.
Finally, there is the sun. Each morning and evening, I watch its progress, its visible assessment of climate and air quality and my state of mind. What could match this for living here? Now.

For the past two years I have walked almost every day around and through the 74 acres of Humboldt Park. I also attend meetings of Humboldt Park Friends. The trees, water, plants, birds, foxes, squirrels, dogs, and people all bring me daily joy. Similarly, Milwaukee Makerspace has been a delight, albeit for a shorter period of time. Since March, I have been active in the stained-glass area; more recently, I have been hammering hot metal in the blacksmith forge. While I could easily list the ways I have become engrossed with the relative strength of various colors of glass or the added comfort of using an anvil of the correct height, my real joys have come in the form of people: Bill, Kathy, Simon, Alan, Sindie, Morgan, Amanda, Dan, Hapto, Tim, and many, many more.