I'm not big on birthdays. Not for me, anyway. It's weird - always has been - but I'm sure it's tied up with my dad dying at such a young age. More than most, especially when I was younger, I've always had a strong sense of my own mortality. Obviously, for me, a birthday meant a year older and year closer to, well, death.
Morbid and weird? Sure, but it's the way I'm wired. Consequently, at least as an adult, I've never enjoyed it when anyone made a big deal out of my birthday. Others' birthdays are great. Mine? Not so much.
The truth is I've never liked the idea of getting older. That's not changed. If anything, it's worsened as I've gotten older. Maybe part of that is natural. Maybe not.
So, a couple of weeks ago, I quietly turned 55 in Charlottesville, then spent the day with J.P. after picking him up from sport camp at Woodberry Forest. Actually, it was a perfect birthday for me. Low key. No party. Spending time, along, with J.P. Very nice.
At the time, I didn't dwell too much about turning 55 years old. A few random jokes about being closer to 60 than 50 but that was about it. Still, it was unsettling and the jokes I made masked an insecurity on my part about my age. Not because of vanity but out of a feeling that so much of my life is behind me and the unknowable question of how much life I have left.
I wouldn't trade my life or my family for anyone's, certainly, but that's a down side of having children so much later in life. There's a real pressure to stay healthy as long as I can to be here for them as they grow into adults. I worry about that all the time. I don't want to be 65 years old 10 years from now - with the boys 23 and 19 - and be frail or a burden to them. What if, God forbid, I get dementia or Alzheimer's and as they enter the prime of their lives, they have to deal with a father who is an invalid? I don't want that for them.
I worry about that a lot. I really do.
An old friend of mine - a lawyer - has been in intensive care with kidney cancer and heart problems. He's only a few years older than me. Back in the day, as they say, we played basketball and softball against each other in the lawyer leagues. He was an athletic marvel 25 years ago. 6'5". In great shape. In basketball, he could handle the ball, play defense, and score. He was unstoppable for "the Wildcats," a team in the Nashville Bar Association basketball league. A very competitive guy.
Now, he's coming off a major surgery and lately, it's been touch and go. Unbelievable to me, especially last week, when I learned of his health issues as I played in a softball game in the law league. Where does the damn time go and how did John and I get old? How did John get sick?
Yesterday, I mediated for a lawyer who is a very good friend of mine. Earlier in the week, it looked like the mediation would get canceled because his mother had bacterial pneumonia, was in the hospital, and wasn't likely to survive. I remember when Dana used to visit his parents in Stuart, Florida, and fish with his dad. Now, his mom's health is failing - she has Parkinson's and dementia and, on top of that, bacterial pneumonia. Again, where did the time go?
Also yesterday, a lawyer who practices next door to me in Franklin - one who also is a very good friend of mine - buried his father in Tracy City, Tennessee. His father served in the Navy, owned businesses in Grundy County, and in days gone by, was a dedicated cock fighter. Yes, I've seen photographs. His dad loved raising what he called "chickens" and fighting them in arenas small and large all across the south. And after battling dementia and a myriad of health conditions, he's gone. I feel for Neil, my friend, because he's lost two brothers and his father in the last couple of years.
So much illness. So much death.
Lately, to be sure, I've had a difficult time appreciating the wonder of life while it seems like disease and death are lurking around every corner. It's a delicate balance - it always has been, for me - that I probably can trace back to my father's death. I think the balance has been upset, or thrown off, and that's hard for me to handle.
My emotional energy, at home and at work, has waned, at times. Especially at work, my capacity to empathize with my clients or with those I am mediating for, is diminished. I don't much patience to deal with demanding clients or issue with staff. Sometimes, I simply want to be left alone, and that's not possible in my line work. I have to be "on" virtually every day I'm at work and that's been a challenge.
I'm not sure what I can do but soldier on, so to speak. It's what my mom would have done. Hell, it's what she did, every day of her life after my father died.
So, this weekend, I'll put a smile on my face for Jude and the boys, and do what I need to do.
Keep. Going.
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