The Autumn of Our Lives
Please forgive my long delay in posting an entry to this journal as I thought it best to experience more of Post Military Life before I could responsibly comment on the many lessons I have earned in the past year or so. And there have been many. The Autumn is a fitting metaphor for this season of our lives as it is full of vibrant, luminescent color and the crisp clarity of oxygen void of summer’s haze and humidity. Still, the promise of winter’s dormancy hangs on the horizon and sparkles in the frost on our windshields in the morning sun. It is both exhilarating and foreboding as a season of life.
As I enjoy the eighth year of my own retirement, many of the realities of this season of life have become much more clear. The time and space of adjusting to a new normal lends focus to circumstances that would otherwise be obscured by the busyness of our former working professional lives. This is not to say that our retired lives are any less busy than the toil of our previous professions or that we were inattentive to other evolutionary shifts in our lives, but with change comes heightened senses. This has been the case with my emerging understandings that come with entering the Autumn of my life. I wish to write of these observations to let you know that we all share the stressors, uncertainties and challenges of this often-rocky passage. We must also remember to appreciate with gratitude the bounty of our lives’ labors during this period, for while the path is steep, it offers a panoramic view illuminated by our elevated insight into the world around us born of our vastly accumulating experience.
My parents are aging, as am I. They, the bedrock of five living generations of Moshers are not so sure of their steps as they once were. My natural desire to spend time with them has increased substantially. I am ever mindful that we do not get forever with them. The morning calls and coffee that I enjoy are numbered. I savor them regardless of the increasing frustrations of fixing their cell phones, computers, Facebook entries and other trivialities that emerge in these generational gaps. They are now elderly and returning to the simplicities of their ethereal beings, which includes their inseparable union after 64 years together in marriage. They have transcended a family history that began long ago and watched the world grow up around them. There is something more than beautiful about it, while I selfishly and inexplicably resent them for aging and slowly slip away from us all. I seek Grace in watching this natural process both up close and afar in incrementally letting them go. Privately, my heart panics in my bed at night at the thought of being in a world without them, no longer a phone call away or a twenty-minute drive from my own house. This day will come and with it the passing of another of life’s seasons.
Children, too, grow older. I have always maintained that if you feed your children regularly, they tend to grow, get stronger and therefore more useful. Our relationships have also grown and gotten stronger in a more mutual way. I need them now, probably more than they need me. It is through them that I can see myself and can visit the soft traces of their long-passed mother in their eyes, mannerisms and in the lines of their faces. She is without a doubt, manifested in the best of them. They are men now and largely on their own. When they visit their home and prepare to leave, I still follow them to the driveway and, after hugging them, issue my litany of cautions before watching them drive down the Neck Road until they are out of sight. I pray silently for their safety and wisdom; every time.
The newness of retirement has long since worn off and in taking my own advice from previous entries, I have enjoyed a new schedule, social circles, interests and a daily regimen that has replaced my professional life. I have forged a very sweet “band of excellence” between post career professional success, philanthropy and personal satisfaction in enjoying many of the experiences that eluded me while serving in the military. Perhaps I am growing wiser in my advancing age or just not strong enough to get myself into trouble as much as I use to when I was younger. I tend to move slower now and with a more careful measure before embarking on new adventures as I realize that my energy and time are in limited supply, and therefore must be expended with greater scrutiny. This time imposed patient wisdom has served me well in post-retirement and in direct support of the tenet, “so late we grow wise, so soon we grow old” or something like that. The point is that now is a time of great joy in being fulfilled with professional challenges, family and giving back to my beloved veteran community.
I am also happy to report that any remaining resentments, bitterness or regrets have finally given way to the larger treasures of a career well served and surrounded by the best people our nation has to offer. I was, after all, just a kid from Burnham, Maine who was able to see the world for nearly thirty years, while experiencing adventures most will never know. I am grateful and still get to see many of those amazing people as I come and go throughout my day, which is always a blessing. Lastly, you may have noticed that the circle of friends with whom you choose to spend your time grown much tighter as you look to the future of relationships. Often, they are the people who have transcended your life before, during and after your professional life or the three lives of which I have written in earlier pieces.
I hope you are enjoying your lives and sharing the expertise you have earned with others as a moral imperative. It’s good for you and even better for those who must pass over the bridges we built to make their passages less taxing. Most importantly, be kind to yourselves as you have more time for reflection and introspection. These moments can sometimes lead to self-admonishment and regret in the mistakes we may have made in our lives. Let it go. No one is more self-critical than I. Mindfulness and meditation in faith have served me greatly as I try to move past the woeful mistakes I have made in this life to truly focus on a lifetime of giving also and doing my best even in the course of bitter defeat, sometimes. You must do likewise. I will write again soon as more comes to light in my countless hours on trout ponds and in the solace of the North Maine Woods.
Until then, remember that you are precious, irreplaceable and the light of your life is essential to the illumination of this often-dark world.
God bless,
Jack
The Colonel
Commentaires