50 sense

A couple of days have passed since my brother died and I find myself more affected by it than I thought. My ambivalence was whether I felt a sense of loss or not. I do feel. I do feel the loss.

Despite our connection, we failed to connect. Although we couldn't relate, we were related. We should have tried harder for now our chances have come and gone.

At three days old I was adopted by the family I was meant to be a part of. Growing up though, I always longed for a brother . Thirteen years ago I located my " birth family". I met my brother at that time. Yes, I had a full blood related brother. There was only three years difference in our ages, but thirty six years of different worlds. We struggled to connect somehow, but it never really happened. Genetics was not enough to bond us. I have not seen or spoken to him in about ten years. He died two hours ago.

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Today I ran to the beauty supply store to pick up my purple shampoo. You know, it's the shampoo to keep your gray hair shiny and silvery, not dull and yellow. I approached the young and attractive clerk and asked where the "gray hair shampoo " was located. I had a proud feeling that I felt absolutely no shame in my gray hair, my wrinkles, my age.

My forties have been the best decade for me. In spite of the physical changes of aging I have felt more at ease with my looks than at any other time in my life. I am proud to have gray hair and want people to see me as being the age I am. I know this is not the trend of many people my age, as they dye their gray and modify their wrinkles. We all need to feel comfortable in our own skin. For me however, I want to look the part of who I am, right now, today. I am all grown up finally.



Lines in the face, tatoos of aging.
Life is proved upon the body
Like needle jabs from a sightless machine.

The older one gets, the more one is conscious of aging. We can barely remember childhood innocence and exuberance. We are surprised by the youthful vitality and unmarked face when we see earlier photos of ourselves. When we look in the mirror, we reluctantly acknowlege the aging mask. It seems there is no escaping the marks of life.

Every experience that we have, everything that we do and think is registered upon us as surely as the steady embroidery of of a tatoo artist. But to a large degree, the pattern and picture that will emerge is up to us. If we go to a tatoo artist, it is we who select the picture. In life, it is we who select what we will become by the actions we perform. There is no reason to go through life thoughtlessly, to let accident shape us. That is like allowing oneself to be tatooed by a man with no sight. How can you help but turn old and ugly?

Whether we emerge beautiful or ugly is our sole responsibility.

Deng Ming-Dao, 365 Tao

My father died when I was 17. My mother died when I was 43. My grandparents are dead as well. Now my family consists of a sister, aunts, uncles, nieces, nephews, and most important my partner and .....my cousins.

I was fortunate enough to have a mother who was extremely close and involved with her two sisters. Through their relationship I formed strong bonds with my cousins that still exist today.

Due to the absense of my parents and grandparents pieces of my past have been wiped out. Because of my cousins alot remains intact.

As for the last 15 years, today , tomorrow and tomorrows to come , my partner is in charge of the pieces. She shares the good times, the bad, the exciting stuff and the mundane. I am where I should be and sharing my life with my true love.

It is no wonder I have more good days than bad.

I met my best friend when I was 18 years old. I am 49 years and 110 days old. We have remained best friends for all these years. We have lived in three different places in Texas over the years , but always in the same area. We have witnessed each others lives through thick and thin. We have laughed together , cried together, played together, fished together, gotten drunk together, been bored together, been bored with each other, been mad at each other. She is my chosen family. She is my chosen sister. We have 30 years of each other's lives in our memory banks. I have been blessed to have such a friendship.

Next month my friend is moving away ...across Texas. Her life and career are taking her in new directions which I think are positive changes. I celebrate her new adventure, but miss her already.

I thought if my cousin was gutsy enough to proclaim her love for Roy Clark, then I would follow suit and refer to Herman's Hermits.

To know and appreciate the good you have to know the bad. The choices we make are really what separates most of us and determines the good or bad days.

Someone told me a story of an elderly person riddled with dementia who was stuck in the '70s. The storyteller said that the '70s had been a miserable time for her and so when she loses her mind she hopes to be stuck in a good decade. I have never forgotten that tale and am constantly trying to decide which would be the preferable decade to get "stuck" in.

I have traded the recreational drugs of my young adulthood for ibuprofen and Tylenol pm and I look forward to them with similar anticipation.

James Taylor sang, "The secret of life is enjoying the passing of time". What a sage! I think that's it. I love to look at calendars and recall days past and anticipate days ahead. If I were to mark each day on the calendar as good / happy or bad / sad , the good / happy would definitely win out. Today I am 49 years and 103 days old. I have been blessed with another good day and I continue to enjoy the passing of time.

Today is Mother's Day. I am not a mother and I no longer have a mother. I am glad that I'm not a mother, but very sad that I don't have one anymore. To those of you in this predicament have a good day anyway.