The question I get, having given up my last paying job about 10 months ago, is along the lines of "How are you liking retirement?" or "What are you doing now that you're retired?"
I have no final answer to those questions as my retirement routine is still evolving. I am liking many aspects of this stage of life. I am staying busy with projects and routine chores around the house along with some writing. My greatest revelation about retirement is that I sleep better. I had been accustomed, over a 33-year career in the newspaper business, 10 years managing nonprofit agencies and three years in the military, to waking in the middle of the night in a sudden panic and then lying awake for hours worrying about some issue at the office.
I still awaken in the night occasionally, but only rarely now in a panic over work issues. I am sleeping better than I have in many years. Credit a lack of occupational worries and pressure. It has been years since I had the recurring nightmare of being in a college classroom and realizing I had not studied for or even read the material for a big exam.
Retirement has not been as productive or as enjoyable as I had hoped. The routine responsibilities still burden me — maintaining the house and yard, paying the bills, exercising regularly, making plans for family visits, etc. I have more time now to do these things, and I have to keep reminding myself that I don't have to wait until the weekend to tackle looming chores. I have the time to mow the lawn, to make medical appointments, to read, to write, to volunteer all week long. We have several bookcases full of books I have not read or want to re-read.
What I am missing is my wife's presence. She is still working, her retirement still months away. All our visions of retirement had involved the two of us doing things together — traveling, visiting family and old friends, working together on household projects. I will not feel fully retired until my companion for the past 47 years can share this time with me.
I have become closer to our dog, an old rescue we adopted about five years ago and who is showing his age. I walk him every day (weather permitting), and, as I've often said, he's the only person I have to talk to during the day.
I've taken on a few editing projects and occasionally (too infrequently) contribute some words to this blog. I've reworked novels I had initially written 10 years ago, but I've not found a publisher for any of them and, frankly, have not tried very hard to find a publisher.
As agreeable as retirement is, I am often reminded that the mortality clock is ticking, and I have, realistically, only 15-20 years (if that) remaining in this life to do all the things I have not done but wanted to do in the first 69 years. It's a sobering thought but not one that has thus far pressed me into expediency. I'll get to the bucket list items that I can, and any remainders won't matter in the end.
Each day, we will celebrate our gratitude for the life we've been granted, for the children, the grandchildren, the siblings and parents and friends who have shaped our lives. Despite all the disappointments, sorrows and tragedies we've experienced over seven decades, we are blessed beyond measure and are grateful for every moment.
Showing posts with label gratitude. Show all posts
Showing posts with label gratitude. Show all posts
Tuesday, May 1, 2018
Monday, December 14, 2015
How much longer can we do this?
Ginny was halfway up the pull-down ladder to the attic, struggling with two large plastic bins I was handing up to her when I had a question for her: “How long are we going to be able to keep doing this?”
By “doing this,” I meant hauling a dozen or so large plastic bins down from the attic and swapping out their contents for decorations throughout the house, an annual ritual that begins after Thanksgiving and ends after Epiphany each year. The movement of the bins from the attic to the living spaces and back again and then reversing the process eight weeks later takes a little time, some strength and good balance on those shaky steps with the narrow rungs. How long would we have the strength and balance to move several rooms full of decorations up and down those steps? How long could I lift a heavy plastic bin over my head and into the opening to the attic? How long could Ginny keep her balance going up and down those steps, pushing up or handing down those big, heavy bins?
The question behind my question was this: How long can we continue to decorate for Christmas in the manner to which we’ve been accustomed? That to which we’ve become accustomed has been a total transformation of the house: pictures, pillows, photographs, linens, dinnerware, rugs and books are replaced by accessories with a Christmas theme. The transformation has continued through two homes, the early excitement of our children and now our grandchildren, through at least two dozen Christmas parties and well into our “senior” years.
But my question, like the decorating itself, endures: How long can we keep doing this?
An earlier holiday provides an answer. At a Thanksgiving gathering that included most of our children and grandchildren, plus others, everyone was asked what they were thankful for. My answer:
I am thankful for more than 60 years of family gatherings as locations and characters changed over the years; for several hundred pounds of turkey, ham, dressing, veggies and pies and cakes consumed; for seeing me and my cousins in my children and grandchildren and their cousins; for the wisdom that comes with age and that youthful stupidity was not fatal. I am thankful that a woman I could never deserve chose to love me. I am thankful that my children grew to maturity, graduated, succeeded, married and are independent and loving parents themselves. I am thankful for life.
On reflection, I would add one more bit of thankfulness: I am thankful for my wife’s parents who welcomed me, a near stranger, into their family, who never doubted my love for their daughter or questioned my ability to support her.
For this Christmas season, we will haul the decorations from the attic and place them throughout the house, even though we can’t find the time for a Christmas party and cannot lure all the children and grandchildren to our home for a celebration, we can be thankful for lives so full of blessings and so defining of grace — unearned favor. With an attitude of gratitude, our Christmas will be full again this year and every year.
By “doing this,” I meant hauling a dozen or so large plastic bins down from the attic and swapping out their contents for decorations throughout the house, an annual ritual that begins after Thanksgiving and ends after Epiphany each year. The movement of the bins from the attic to the living spaces and back again and then reversing the process eight weeks later takes a little time, some strength and good balance on those shaky steps with the narrow rungs. How long would we have the strength and balance to move several rooms full of decorations up and down those steps? How long could I lift a heavy plastic bin over my head and into the opening to the attic? How long could Ginny keep her balance going up and down those steps, pushing up or handing down those big, heavy bins?
The question behind my question was this: How long can we continue to decorate for Christmas in the manner to which we’ve been accustomed? That to which we’ve become accustomed has been a total transformation of the house: pictures, pillows, photographs, linens, dinnerware, rugs and books are replaced by accessories with a Christmas theme. The transformation has continued through two homes, the early excitement of our children and now our grandchildren, through at least two dozen Christmas parties and well into our “senior” years.
But my question, like the decorating itself, endures: How long can we keep doing this?
An earlier holiday provides an answer. At a Thanksgiving gathering that included most of our children and grandchildren, plus others, everyone was asked what they were thankful for. My answer:
I am thankful for more than 60 years of family gatherings as locations and characters changed over the years; for several hundred pounds of turkey, ham, dressing, veggies and pies and cakes consumed; for seeing me and my cousins in my children and grandchildren and their cousins; for the wisdom that comes with age and that youthful stupidity was not fatal. I am thankful that a woman I could never deserve chose to love me. I am thankful that my children grew to maturity, graduated, succeeded, married and are independent and loving parents themselves. I am thankful for life.
On reflection, I would add one more bit of thankfulness: I am thankful for my wife’s parents who welcomed me, a near stranger, into their family, who never doubted my love for their daughter or questioned my ability to support her.
For this Christmas season, we will haul the decorations from the attic and place them throughout the house, even though we can’t find the time for a Christmas party and cannot lure all the children and grandchildren to our home for a celebration, we can be thankful for lives so full of blessings and so defining of grace — unearned favor. With an attitude of gratitude, our Christmas will be full again this year and every year.
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