What Getting Old Means To Me

I am outside, wandering Richmond, British Columbia. The ocean stands before me, a shimmering field of blue that rolls in the howling wind. I am calm. I want to hold on to this moment because it is beautiful. But this is impossible. Time stands still for no one. As I’ve gotten older, time billows by more quickly than ever. Days, weeks, months, and years pass like sped-up movies. The more I try to hold on, the less I have a grasp on it. It all is so ephemeral. And we are the most ephemeral, passing on this earth just this once for just a sliver of time before it is gone.

I am now 41, fully in middle age. My parents are in their 70s and 80s. My aunt and uncle passed away at the end of 2020. 500,000 Americans have died of COVID-19. Death no longer rests in the background but has become a companion of my everyday existence. I am getting older and certain truths, which I have always known, are now impossible to hide from anymore. I know my parents do not have that much time left on this earth. I know everyone I care about will die. I know my own time is limited too.

Sometimes the dread gets the better of me. Sometimes I feel so sad that I want to lay in bed and cry. Sometimes I hear the cries of my patients, and I feel I have nothing to give. Sometimes I want to fall asleep into a haze of alcohol and not remember my mortality. Sometimes I get so anxious about lost time that…