Tom Ehrich is a writer, church consultant and Episcopal priest based in New York . He wrote an essay on aging, parts of which I have copied below:
That digit, that 7, makes many things seem different. That simple change in the tens place might not have been accompanied by ominous health issues. But it did ask to be noticed and taken seriously.
I see no gain in trying to outguess aging. Things will proceed as they proceed. My work, it seems to me, is to live as well as I can in whatever number of years or decades remain to me. So far, 70 feels like 50 to me. But I am conscious of that 7 yelling out, “Pay attention! Don’t take any of this for granted! Give it your best!” That’s sound self-advice at any age, of course. But who in their 20s or 50s is thinking about time running out?
It isn’t maudlin or defeatist, or a sign of hypochondria, to experience 70 as a wakeup call to take life seriously. I think it is a gift. Seeing the end gives encouragement to notice the journey. Imagining a limited number of days remaining gives added meaning to the pouring out of this one day. I am asking different questions. I am still concerned with accomplishment and achievement. I want to do “important” things. But I also ask if I used today wisely. Was I as kind to my wife as I could be? Did I try to make a difference in my world?
If the answers are negative, I don’t kiss it off. I vow to do better tomorrow. I know my flaws and shortcomings. I don’t expect to surmount them entirely. But neither will I let them win. The point isn’t to have a grand finale that compensates for a life marred by mistakes, shortcomings and regrets. The point is to make the journey forward as much as it can be. Today’s chapter – illuminated by the digit 7 – is the passage I can take seriously. Whether or not I was the world’s greatest husband at 40 is immaterial. I can be a good husband now.
Aging isn’t a death sentence. If there is a death sentence, it is life itself. Aging is a new, promising and, yes, challenging portion of the path. It ends where all of life ends. But the portion itself seems brilliant with possibilities. Not the same possibilities that arrived at age 16, and yet just as exciting. The intoxicating taste of freedom, for example. Not unlike the freedom that came with my first driver’s license. I treasure the freedom to say exactly what I want to say, to write what I want to write, to allocate time to things that seem to matter, whether or not they are productive, applause-worthy or even reasonable. I treasure sitting in front of six computer screens – knowing that one would do, but not caring whether anyone thinks six is too many.
The gift of seeing the end says, Don’t waste time trying to please people. Just live. So the 7 is a gift. If it takes a “creak,” or even a “groan,” to signal that gift, so be it.