The fifties are a strange time in life. When you think you're all settled, the kids are through school, and in many cases,through college as well, starting out their adult lives in their chosen fields ... time to take a breather and sit back for a while, you think.
Not quite. For the fifties are when the losses start hitting ... losses of childhood figures, who till now, formed an umbrella figure over one's heads, who gave us the illusion of a long life ahead, of youth still lasting ... Till we hit our fifties - if we are lucky - we still have the older generation covering us, forming a protective layer between ourselves and the consciousness of our mortality. And our children reinforce that feeling, because they are settled, yet not fully ... dependent but independent living ... they consult us briefly, especially when troubled, then dive back into the turbulent waters of their young lives.
And we sit back and feel ... this is a good place to be in. We look towards each other again as a couple, empty nesters, most of us ... we go back to the early days of married life, when we were just two ... now we're two again, but older (definitely), wiser (hopefully!) and more comfortable in our own skins and with each other. We've lived together for the better part of three decades, we no longer have anything to prove or to hide ... the hot young love has evolved into a warm, comfortable companionship and life is good.
And then the losses start hitting. The umbrella develops holes. Older siblings of parents, favorite uncles and aunts, a great aunt or two ... as most in our grandparents generation have proved the adage that the women outlast the men. We pause, we mourn ... and we go on with our lives ... the umbrella has a few small holes, but the most important cover, our own parents ... are still there. And while they are there, we are safe.
Safe from what, we don't really think much about. Safe because there is still a 'go to' person? Someone who knows more than us, who is wiser, more experienced ... someone older ... Or safe from thoughts of our own mortality ... the knowledge that there is still someone ahead of us. An umbrella ...a cover ... a shield. Parents have always shielded their children from all troubles and sorrows ... and they continue to do so till Nature takes over. And then we step into the role of the oldest generation living. Which is scary. Suddenly there is no one to ask, to go to ... suddenly we are the ones who are supposed to know everything, to have all the answers.
That's probably why, when one parent is gone, we cling to the one left. We still need that cover, that reassurance ... that there is someone who will protect us, love us, care about us, no matter what. Someone who will answer all our questions, or guide us to find our own answers. And the realisation hits with heartbreaking force, that parents are really the only ones who do that. Who love unconditionally.
Not quite. For the fifties are when the losses start hitting ... losses of childhood figures, who till now, formed an umbrella figure over one's heads, who gave us the illusion of a long life ahead, of youth still lasting ... Till we hit our fifties - if we are lucky - we still have the older generation covering us, forming a protective layer between ourselves and the consciousness of our mortality. And our children reinforce that feeling, because they are settled, yet not fully ... dependent but independent living ... they consult us briefly, especially when troubled, then dive back into the turbulent waters of their young lives.
And we sit back and feel ... this is a good place to be in. We look towards each other again as a couple, empty nesters, most of us ... we go back to the early days of married life, when we were just two ... now we're two again, but older (definitely), wiser (hopefully!) and more comfortable in our own skins and with each other. We've lived together for the better part of three decades, we no longer have anything to prove or to hide ... the hot young love has evolved into a warm, comfortable companionship and life is good.
And then the losses start hitting. The umbrella develops holes. Older siblings of parents, favorite uncles and aunts, a great aunt or two ... as most in our grandparents generation have proved the adage that the women outlast the men. We pause, we mourn ... and we go on with our lives ... the umbrella has a few small holes, but the most important cover, our own parents ... are still there. And while they are there, we are safe.
Safe from what, we don't really think much about. Safe because there is still a 'go to' person? Someone who knows more than us, who is wiser, more experienced ... someone older ... Or safe from thoughts of our own mortality ... the knowledge that there is still someone ahead of us. An umbrella ...a cover ... a shield. Parents have always shielded their children from all troubles and sorrows ... and they continue to do so till Nature takes over. And then we step into the role of the oldest generation living. Which is scary. Suddenly there is no one to ask, to go to ... suddenly we are the ones who are supposed to know everything, to have all the answers.
That's probably why, when one parent is gone, we cling to the one left. We still need that cover, that reassurance ... that there is someone who will protect us, love us, care about us, no matter what. Someone who will answer all our questions, or guide us to find our own answers. And the realisation hits with heartbreaking force, that parents are really the only ones who do that. Who love unconditionally.
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