Lights Please.

A light bulb above a person’s head is meant to illustrate the birth of an idea. I like that symbol, as it seems that a light does indeed turn on when a solution to a problem is discovered, when clarity is achieved when dealing with a dilemma, or when one path among two or more is illuminated and the chosen way becomes increasingly clear with each step.

I’m the kind of guy who doesn’t like surprises, but likes change; I enjoy variety but I need routine. I try to treasure each and every moment, as I sense time is fleeting. Life changes far too quickly, which surprises and unnerves me.

Last week I attended the funeral of one of my father’s best friends. Dad died about twelve years ago, which should be plenty of time to have completely healed my wounds. So I foolishly thought.

I didn’t know what triggered my emotions, but as I walked through the funeral home drying my eyes, I saw a friend of mine. Her father had passed away just a few months ago, and now her uncle lay in a casket.

Making no attempt to hide my sorrow I said to her, “I thought I was over my mom and dad’s death, but being here brings it all back.”

“I don’t think you ever get over it,” she said.

More than a decade has passed and I still grieve the loss of my father. Even though the years fly by the days can drag; the sun rises and sets slowly as if controlled by a giant dimmer switch, albeit an automatic one. Occasionally, we are the given luxury of time to prepare for an unsettling change, but far too frequently the day is darkened by something we had not allowed for.

How does one prepare for the aging of parents, the aging of one’s self? I was talking to the manager of a shop the other day about the gradual retirement of the shop’s owner. It seems the owner may be having trouble letting go of the business. The manager and I agreed that letting go is hard. Perhaps the best kind of retirement plan is gradual instead of immediate – a slow dimming of the work life versus a quick flip of the off switch.

Realizing that we are no more in control of when the sun rises and sets than we are in the number of our days should give us clarity and purpose. Quite often when public figures retire they are asked why. People want to know what could possibly be more important than public service, the sports world, stage and screen. Predictably the reason given for retiring has something to do with wanting to spend more time with their family.

As I get older, I am becoming more mindful of the brevity of life, the fragility of relationships, and the importance of setting priorities regarding the limited number of days each of us are allotted. So what if instead of waiting until we are older to do what’s most important, we chose to spend more time with our family now?

Now there’s an idea.