Over the course of my life, or during those years when I noticed what was going on in my world, so from about age 10 onwards, around half a century, I’ve seen people I know or I know of grow older. It’s a strange thing to see, even now, after seeing it many times. Lines in faces becoming deeper, movements slowing, changed voices – with some voices becoming fainter, others harsher, and some sounding like a crackling gramophone record. And there are the announcements in various media, of people passing away. Most often – it is a person in his or her 60s, 70s, 80s or 90s. If much younger, it is of course a tragedy; and that term is sometimes given from ages 60 upwards; or, we hear the phrases: ‘died too soon’ or ‘sad, but they had a good inning’. Whatever we say, there’s often the weird feeling – a person was here, and now they have gone.
When I think about people dying, and I don’t do it often as it can make me feel too sad, I mostly think of bereaved people and grief. I’ve had to deal with my own grief a few times in my life, and I’ve helped several people to recover from the most painful effects of grief. It is important for everyone to always get help to get through grief, as it is the most terrifying kind of storm that human beings encounter.
A person need not be religious to learn that that the passing of individuals, whilst it may feel like the end of the world for loved ones, is always a part of ongoing life. We survive, with the help of others. Time passes, new life comes into the world. And we remember not just the recently departed, but also people who may have walked this world many years ago, sometimes thousands of years ago. Of course, the further back we look, the more blurred the picture becomes, until all we have are bones and theories. Occasionally other reminders. Like ancient cave paintings. The artists are long gone but the images left on walls are still making ripples in history which are still touching our ideas and our imagination.
As long as I can remember, I’ve had a peculiar feeling that dying is not something I should worry about. This feeling is so strong in me that I cannot recall a time when I have worried about dying. Ever. I grieve when people pass away, people I know or people I feel I know – some famous people. Yet if I think about dying myself, I mentally shrug and think – I will simply be gone and therefore there will be nothing of me which will be around to worry or be afraid or be sad. It’s not that I want to do die, I don’t, it’s just that it seems like a pointless thing to worry about. I suppose that’s a good thing.
That brings me, in my usual roundabout way, to my theme for this piece – ‘a good long life’. I am interested in the lives of people who stay active in what is usually described as their ‘later years’. 80 year old boxers or runners, or simply older folk whose minds are alert and they remain fascinated by many things. I remember, when I was a boy, reading about Charlie Chaplin and Picasso who were very active even when older. Chaplin was 88 when he died and Picasso was 91. I remember thinking – that was how I wanted to be when I became older. Not caring how old I looked, but always wanting to at least try to stay active. For me, this was tied up with the idea I’ve also always had – that a good life involves adventure, and that can involve a lot of different things. If you can wake up each day and have a new adventure, then life stays fresh. It could be as simple as a walk through Balgay Park, and spotting a red squirrel, a heart-stopping blur of red fur, moving supernaturally fast up a tall tree. Such adventures matter, and it’s worth living for as long as you can, so you can experience every vital moment, every gift that life has to offer you.
For me, as I grow older, there’s another idea mixed in with all of this. It has to do with one of my own big adventures: writing books. I have one book out, with a public launch in a couple of weeks. It is the first of several books I have planned. I cannot make them all appear at once, at the same pace as a red squirrel scampering up a tree. This is a slower kind of adventure. Yet, one by one these other amazing things, books, will take their places on bookshelves around Scotland and perhaps in other countries too.
Writing books takes a lot of time and energy. I am working on ways I can spend more time writing. Ideally, I’d spend every free moment writing because it is something I thrive on. I have been very lucky – I have already had a long and interesting life, but now I begin a new adventure. Writing more books of short stories, plus novels and anything else I want to do. I am looking forward to the next stage of my long good life.
