Sometimes it is the small wins that deliver the most satisfaction – and for retirees, we aim for small victories such as harvesting our homegrown veggies, and enjoying restful naps in the afternoon.
The retiree, though unfettered, is disinclined to boredom. Doing what we like provides purpose and structure to our day.
My husband – we'll call him "Swamp Thing" (ST) – loves to get his hands in the soil to dig, plant, weed or just stare. He derives much joy when pulling up his organic yam, pumpkin and ginger from the ground. His green fingers unfold in the squishy, damp soil – a happy wanderer in his own vegetable patch that yields long beans, spinach and lady's fingers.
Untethered to time, he covers the bitter gourds with paper to protect them from fruit flies and other pests. He constructs a new trellis for the long beans to climb on. It is a sunny picture of an elderly man in his gardening attire enthralled by this life-enhancing activity of bringing beauty to the earth.
As ST wends his way along the twisted garden path, he projects physical and mental well-being that only being constantly outdoors can bring. When the day gets hot, ST finally leaves his vegetable patch and enters the house. Bits of leaves and gardening litter cling to his T-shirt and hair but his face is flushed and invigorated with all the work in the garden.
Older people winnow the things they have down to the few that they most enjoy. For ST, it is as simple as savouring a cup of coffee and roti canai with curry chicken. ST likes his morning coffee tightly packed in a filter with the liquid made to pass through, drop by drop.
Savouring the satisfaction in what is available right now, and not hitching it to the future, makes living in the moment all the more glorious. For those aged 70 and beyond, delayed gratification does not hold water. It makes better sense to enjoy what you can now while there is still time, and while you still can.
ST is a dedicated napper, a sleep whisperer and gifted sleeper. Taking serial naps is rich idleness: Pre-sleeps, post-sleeps and renaps. He claims that he often finds solutions to problems while lying prone and allowing the mind to wander in sublimity, or in a reflective semi-conscious state. Men, and all their attendant idiosyncrasies.
What harm is there in being a slouch, a sloth or a slugabed in your retirement years, especially after holding a steady job for 35 years? That's ST's manifesto for guilt-free idleness: A kind of midlife revolt against the rigours of striving or "grasping for the wind". Instead he focuses on languor, and slides nonchalantly into geezerhood with ease and leisure.
How hard is old age? What are the markers of a well-lived life? The events, the stuff of life, are as fleeting as a rainbow or the dew on velvety petals. By the time we reach our 60s, many who once filled our thoughts and days are now gone. So we would do ourselves a big favour by enjoying our remaining years, and accepting the mixed bag of blessings and losses. The alternative is unthinkable.
ST and his former classmates had a meet-up recently at a local restaurant. They are turning 70 within months of each other, though they appear to be ageing at different rates. The gravitational pull affects people differently. There were 10 of them – a coterie of retirees and businessmen.
Over a course of several dishes, they discussed politics, health issues, and compared body weights and hair thickness (or the lack of). With their jokes and their laughter and their familiarity with each other, lunch stretched to three hours. And no one knew or dared ask when the next gathering would be. When we are old, our relationships with one another and our sense of hope are the things that keep us going from day to day.
Still, growing old is a kind of triumph – of having crossed hurdles, overcome troubles, survived enough turmoil, and risen above discouraging circumstances.
It was the American poet Stanley Kunitz who wrote, when he was in his 70s, "Live in the layers, not on the litter."
"The layers" is the courage one needs to close the door to a past that has no further relevance in one's life now. "The litter" is the metaphor for the rough patches of ageing, the regrets and the struggles. So we are to live in the layers – move on, commune with nature, and relish the solitude and joy in the length of our lives. In other words, to age valiantly and with self-compassion.
Each morning, we look for a spark of inspiration, an infusion of energy and something to look forward to. ST has his gardening while I love to put thoughts on paper. Some of our longtime habits have calcified, fossilised into domestic rituals to be enacted day after day.
With all the aches and the assorted afflictions of advancing age, many seniors like us are familiar with beautiful-sounding names of medicine; these pills help to prop us up so that we don't exit too quickly.
ST has a colourful pill organiser which has little compartments labelled Monday to Sunday. It is placed prominently on our dining table where he sits for meals. Sometimes he misses a pill and says, "Eh, none the worse," and sometimes he unwittingly takes a double dose and quips, "No wonder I feel kinda weird today."
I've lost count of the number of times his irreverent humour saved many an unsettling situation from turning into panic. With humour and a sense of absurdity, we may be able to thwart those ageing anxieties, and ward off moments of unravelling memory.
Ultimately, the willingness to accept the breadth and depth of life, and inevitable future changes, gives us strength and motivation to get up each morning to meet the day.
Is old age easier to bear when you know it well? Perhaps. No longer a dread or a threat, it becomes a privilege, a sheer grace. So much to look forward to. And we should all be so lucky.
Mary Eu is a retiree who has a passion for writing. When she is not prowling the shopping mall looking for a dress to scream into, she can be seen reading, writing or home decorating.
Already a subscriber? Log in
Get 20% OFF The Star Digital Access
Cancel anytime. Ad-free. Unlimited access with perks.
