living past the speed limit

Me and my grandmother at the Alaska Sea Life Center

I used to always say I didn't want to live past the age of whatever the speed limit was. This was back when I was young and naive and the speed limit on the New York State Thruway was 55. Slowly, however, states started raising those speed limits. And then Montana lifted their speed limit and let it be judged as "reasonable and prudent."

Apparently some people's idea of reasonable is different from another's so Montana put the speed limit signs back up.

But I digress. The point of my making this statement was I didn't want to get old and decrepit. I didn't want to lose my teeth, my sanity, my bowels... I wanted to get out while the getting was good. Die legendary and beautiful like Marilyn Monroe or James Deane.

Now I see that 55 is way too young to die and I am happy to see 75 is most states speed limits but I think I have heard rumors that Montana has 80 mph speed limits. And I regularly drive that fast in a 65 (shhhh!) so I have come to agreement that 80 is a good time to go.

Part of this affirmation of my "speed limit" on age has come from watching mine and JaDee's grandparents live past 80. Currently we have 84, 85, 86, 86, and 90 alive and kicking. But while they are still important to us these wonderful men and women are mere shadows, it seems, of their former selves.

There is depression, diabetes, arthritis that you can't even get out of bed with, dementia that is frustrating, blood pressure pills, pacemakers, and nosebleeds that won't quit.

Not to mention how set in their ways they all are. A remote control for the television may as well be a teleporter to the moon. Most of them won't eat fish; one only eats hamburgers. They all worry incessantly about the littlest things like getting their hair done on the right day, the beans in the ground too early (or too late), the great-grand kids jumping on the trampoline/eating too much ice cream/sleeping too long.

But we love them dearly, don't get me wrong. I love my own grandmother tremendously. We can still talk for hours about cooking, gardening, organizing and decorating. She loves life and was thrilled with her trip to Alaska. I am so glad I got to share this beautiful state with her and have her spend 10 days in my home. I got to care for her in the way that she cared for me all of my visits to her house as a girl.

I got to care for her almost like one of my own children.

I wished with all my heart that she was close enough that I could care for her every day.

She misses my grandpa, who has been gone almost 12 years now, and I know she aches for him. Part of me wants to let her go and let her poor body rest. To let her mind, that she is desperately hanging onto, relax about all the little things that make daily life so hard at this age.

And a huge part of me will be crushed the day I get that call. For part of getting old is touching the lives of our loved ones. Even though she didn't raise me, my grandmother is a huge part of who I am. Her unconditional love has always been constant and a rock for me. Her testimony in the gospel is unshakable. Her example has spoken to me louder than any etiquette lesson, finishing school, Sunday school class, or recycling seminar (that woman re-uses EVERYTHING)!! She has taught me how to make pie crust, can jam, match accessories, wash tin foil and plant the most beautiful garden.

I guess it scares me to think that I will end up that afraid of (or unable to understand?) new things in life. Or forget how fast and fun life is. Or not be able to keep up any more. Or lose my mind to the point that i am afraid there is a conspiracy poisoning the water to my home (don't laugh, one grandmother's dementia has gotten that bad).

Most importantly, my pre-meditated weariness for this life has to do with the testimony I have of our Heavenly Father's plan. I know I will live with my family again. I know that when I die, I will wait to be reunited with my loved ones left behind.

I know we can be together forever.