The Unexpected Grief of Growing Older
I remember when I noticed it was missing. My son, who was 15 at the time, was trying to buy my old truck before he turned 16. He had started a little business called I’m Buying a Truck…Looking for Work. We had been contacting our network, and he was picking up some odd jobs here and there. Then we landed a big job. Big, big job. Too big for a 15-year-old job. Perfect for a dad-is-gonna-help-you-and-show-how-to-work job. So, we took it in the hottest part of the summer. Big mistake.
It had about 10 parts: yard work and light house repair for a friend who was out of town for 3 weeks.
The problem with me leading by example was that I am no longer 17 (the perpetual age I refer to when I think about being young). At 17, I was a strapping lad, and although I was far from a muscled specimen, I could hold my own, and I did a lot of manual labor and athletics back then. But this summer, we are doing the projects; I am a 54-year-old man who doesn’t go outside much and isn’t sure where the shovel is in our garage.
It doesn’t take long for me to recognize that something is off. I am exhausted by the time we finish the first task. I have no stamina for the heat, and my muscles are rebelling. Except for the fact that I am not trying to embarrass myself in front of my son; I might have had a David Allen Coe moment of “Take this Job and Shove It.” No offense to my friend; we were looking for work, and he was looking for workers.
But this experience started something in me- a pondering of my old age. Does this mean that I am old? Have I officially lost my first step? Are the leaves beginning to change colors? Where did my strength go?
This is not an article about overcoming the physical demons that plague older men. Or a call to be exceptional like Caleb, who says at 85, “I am still as strong as I was 40 years ago; give me my mountain”. It is not an infomercial of how men age and how to overcome its effects. Or even a wistful look at youth who are described in the proverbs as glorious in their strength.
The glory of young men is their strength, and the honor of old men is their gray hair. (Proverbs 20:29)
This is a muse about the moment you realize that something has changed. That moment you begin to exchange the glory of young men for the honor of old men. That moment when you sense you are walking into a new season. It doesn’t mean you are ready for the cane, but compared to your younger self, you no longer have it, at least physically. That is a scary moment, or at least it was for me. Five years later, I had a heart attack, and in the next 5 years after that I gained almost 35 lbs. The 50s were brutal. And the 60s don’t seem to be relenting. And when I talk with older guys, they say, “you ain’t seen nothing yet.”
Now, before you start giving me advice about all the things I could have done, should have done, or what I still could do. Don’t bother. This muse isn’t about fixing my issues (even though I do need to address my issues) but acknowledging how the physical part of aging is tough on the psyche.
Aging is not for the faint of heart.
It seems this new knowledge comes with a grief of sorts.
There is a grief of losing strength. I guess the glory days of youth were real, and what we used as a masculine identity fades. And even if the identity of strength is false, we still grieve this loss. I think I grieve this loss. I know I grieve this loss. There was a time when I felt I could turn it around anytime I wanted. I guess this is the arrogance of our 20s, 30s, and 40s. We still have the strength and willpower to navigate any kind of physical decline.
Years ago, I was complaining about being sore one day at work after a busy weekend, and one of my old bosses asked me how old I was. I told him I was 42 (can’t remember exactly how old I was), and he laughed and said, “Oh, just wait- it gets worse. At 45 the wheels start to wobble, and in your 50s they begin to fall off.” And he was right.
I think if you boil it down, it is about identity, and in a man’s world, physical presence is part of who we are. I think that is why we admire the power of God. It is why we admire the strength of our fathers (earthly and heavenly). It’s why we want to protect our families. It’s why we suck in our stomachs around other men and secretly compete with people around us all the time, whether we tell them or not. We want to measure up physically, and when a man doesn’t measure up, it causes him to pause and causes him grief.
The grief cycle has a lot to say about how to deal with loss. Loss of a loved one. Loss of a dream. Loss of resources. And in this context, the loss of physical power. Predictably, with grief we go through denial, anger, bargaining, depression, and acceptance. I don’t know where I am, but I know I am in process. Not at acceptance yet, for sure.
I think that losing strength is one of the first indicators of our own demise.
Therefore, we do not lose heart, but though our outer man is decaying, yet our inner man is being renewed day by day. (2 Corinthians 4:16)
We are fragile beings moving from dust to dust. But even though our outer man (our physical man) is in decline, our spiritual man is strengthening and preparing for the place we go afterward with our renewed selves (heaven).
My working hypothesis is that aging is the final frontier that we face in our faith journey. I have jokingly said that getting old is about picking how you will die from a sickness bowl in the center of the table. We saddle up to the bowl and draw out the future. Everybody is going to die somehow. But we have no control over how that will be.
Could be Cancer. No!
Alzheimer’s. Ouch!
Heart attack. No way!
Plane crash. Oh my!
I heard a joke where a guy said, “When I die, I want to go like my grandpa- peacefully in his sleep. And not like the 4 screaming people in his car at the time.”
But facing our final frontier will require a different kind of strength- a strength of heart. We must rally our mind to fight the good fight. We must rally our will to hang in there. We must rally our emotions to steady and trust God. It reminds me of Psalm 71, where an aging David cries out to God for help as his strength wanes.
I have become a marvel to many, for You are my strong refuge. My mouth is filled with Your praise, and with Your glory all day long. Do not cast me off in the time of old age; Do not forsake me when my strength fails. For my enemies have spoken against me; And those who watch for my life have consulted together, saying, “God has forsaken him; Pursue and seize him, for there is no one to deliver. – Psalms 71
David the warrior-king-poet, man after God’s own heart, continued to look to God until the very end. We too need to persevere as we round the final turn in the road.
And now I guess I better get back into the gym and get old-man strong again.
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