This Time of Year, This Time of LIfe

The Autumn of Days

The Autumn of Life

Copyright © 2024

by Ralph F. Couey

Images and written content

We're hitting the road again, back to Virginia to spend time with our son and his family.  And of course, I get to spend time with the fall foliage and cool, perhaps cold temperatures that mark that passage into my favorite time of year.  In the mainland, anyway.  .

At this point in life, I've found more and more how important family is.  Of course time passes.  Grandchildren who were once young grow up and move on.  Our "children" now sport bits of grey hair, and begin to complain about aches and pains.  But that bond of blood, unbreakable as ever, continues to hold us together.  

I've always held a longer view of life, so I see the perspective of generations in my family.  My exploration of genealogy has taken me back to 10th century France and 17th century Ireland.  When I look through that long list of names, I often wonder how they viewed the future.  For most of them, it was the continuing birth of children that kept clans alive, flourishing, and powerful in those turbulent times.  

But these days are different.  The future, a constantly moving target, is uncertain at best.  Our grandchildren will face challenges we could never dream of, economic, social, political, perhaps environmental.  The wisdom of the aged in their lives can't provide a template, or even a vague sketch of how to navigate those expectedly stormy seas.  They will have to rely on their experience, knowledge, skills, and yes, sheer toughness all of which I dearly hope we've provided them.  This is uppermost in my mind because our oldest has gone to college in far-off New York.  We have a great deal of faith and confidence in her, but we all remember what that time of life was like, how hard it was to be away from home and family, learning for the first time who to trust and how much.  For the first time in her life, there's no safety net, no sanctuary when things truly go south.  Intellectually, I know this is a necessary experience, a required rite of passage to full adulthood.  Life is indifferent.  It is not what you allow it to do to you, but what you do to it that will forge a path of success.  Doesn't make it any easier to be so far away.

The others are also growing up.  Fast, too fast.  Our two grandkids in Colorado are blossoming into powerfully creative individuals.  They are strong, directed, and confident and there are great things ahead for them.  But at some point, they too will leave the nest and undertake their own flight.  And those of us left behind will be on pins and needles watching from afar as their stories unfold.  The younger two in Virginia also are striding forward in confident assuredness.  I still don't know what they will end up doing or being, but I'm pretty sure they'll be in charge.

The three in California are something of a collection of miracles.  The older two were born autistic, and one needed open heart surgery shortly after birth.  The oldest we thought might have to live in a group home.  But he is one his way to college, with a plan to work on, work with, and perhaps design Formula One race cars.  All three of them are blossoming out of what was a cruelly difficult childhood.  They are tough beyond words, and nothing will get in their way.

I look at all of them with pride, and gratitude.  I was not very good at being a father, being unable to draw that barrier between career and family.  But my kids survived it, and learned from those experiences.  They are successful professionally, and are deeply involved in their kids' lives.  I hate regrets, but I wish I would have been better.

I don't try to judge my life, good or bad, because it makes me sad.  And at this point in life, kinda useless.  When I pass from this life at some point in the relatively near future, there won't be any statues or buildings with my name on them.  I won't have cured cancer, the common cold, or brought world peace.  I don't command princely wealth or exercise worldly power or influence.  If that were the sole yardstick, then I've been a failure.  

But I've also learned from my offspring that there are far more important ways to measure a life.  I love, and have been loved.  I've been a friend, and received friendship.  I've given and received respect.  I've  enjoyed the exercise of gifts and talents, particularly writing and public speaking, that has given me so much joy.  And perhaps when I look at my grandkids and what they can and undoubtedly will do with their lives, the future, sometimes bleak, now has a distinctly rosy, optimistic glow.  Perhaps I can look at that and surmise that some good is here to pass along to the future.

The dreams we have as children are almost never fulfilled in life.  Because of the experience and wisdom we acquire along the way, that context alters our expectations.  What we loved to do at age 7 or 8 will be very different from what we eventually choose.  I tell people to be patient as this sorts itself out.  I did not find out what I wanted to do when I grew up until I reached the tender age of 40, and proved to be far removed from the baseball player/astronaut I wanted to be as a kid.  The only consistent thing in life is change, and everyone must be ready for whatever comes their way, and be nimble enough to keep our footing as we shift course.

There was a time when five years from now was just that:  five years.  I am 69, and am well aware that my future will be considerable shorter than my past.  Another important thing I have learned is not to just exist from day to aimless day.  But live!  And live with passion, fervor, and joy!  And so what if nobody outside my family and friends remembers me?

Because at the end, I can be assured that it has been one hell of a ride.