The days of our years are threescore years and ten; and if by reason of strength they be fourscore years, yet is their strength labour and sorrow; for it is soon cut off, and we fly away. –Psalm 90:10 KJV
So, a few days ago, I entered the world of septuagenarians. In doing so, I was reminded that I’ve attained a milestone. My father died at 67, my mother transitioned at 49, and my brother passed away at 31. To wit, I’ve lived longer than anyone in the nuclear family, to which I was born.
In many ways, and for many reasons, that is a sobering contemplation. My mother died when I was in the second grade. She was a housewife who spent her time raising, directing, and correcting me. This is where I say, I was a precocious kid, who required (and received) a lot of correcting. LOL! The thing that I recall most vividly, about my mom is, she taught me to read, using the newspaper, before I entered first grade. Oh yeah, in case you’re wondering, Statewide public kindergarten was not available in North Carolina when I was 5. Mom was my kindergarten teacher/Headstart Administrator, and first grade was my introduction to formal education, all of which was conducted in public schools (First Grade through Graduate School). Her tutelage served me well. I was an above grade-level reader, throughout my primary and secondary education years. Thanks mom!
My Big Brother was twelve years my senior. By the time I entered school, he had relocated to New York. We didn’t spend a lot of time together. My enduring memory of him is a visit with him in Albany, NY during Christmas Break, during my freshman year of college. That trip resulted in us taking the only picture of us together that I possess. I cherish that phot, and I miss him. Less than three months later, he was dead. I was 19 when he died.
My dad was a larger-than-life figure. At least he was to me. He was a minister. I heard him preach hundreds of sermons. Undoubtedly, I heard him repeat a few, yet they never got old. He was my hero. For several years, we talked every weekday. I called him. I think he looked forward to our conversations. They were never long, but they were reliably predictable. He developed a terminal illness. He knew it; I knew it, but he fought valiantly for as long as he could. His physician was his best friend, and my fraternity brother. One Friday night, outside my dad’s hospital room, his doctor told me my father was approaching the end of the road. Absent life support, he would succumb, in a matter of days, if not hours. He had zero quality of life. He was in pain, he could hardly breath, and he had been in that debilitating state for weeks. The question posed to me was, whether to approve a DNR directive? I was conflicted. I thought about it for what seemed an eternity, probably a couple of minutes in real time. Reluctantly, tearfully, I made what felt like the most difficult decision I’d ever been called upon to render. In that moment, I realized I was tacitly saying good-bye to dad. Just thinking about it, and typing these words brings back the painful memories. Early Sunday morning, I got the call. My father had transitioned around 6:00 a.m. I got up and went to the hospital one final time. I sat alone with my day, again, what seemed like an eternity. Probably 15 minutes. I thought about this man who for all my life, challenged me to be the best me that I could be. I reflected on losing the last member of my nuclear family. I said a prayer, shed a tear, and composed myself. I was 33. It’s hard to reckon, I’ve lived more years since he died, than I did before he passed away.
Here's the thing. This is not a sad story. In fact, it’s celebratory. I’ve lived 70 years, and part of 8 decades, 50’s, 60’s, 70’s, 80’s, 90’s, 2000’s, 2010’s, and 2020’s. Blessed and highly favored are the words that come to mind; arguably, even blessed beyond measure.
Last month was pretty big in my orbit. My wife and I visited Egypt, where we saw the Sphinx, and the Pyramids of Giza, I observed the 50th Anniversary in my Fraternity, and of course, I celebrated my 70thBirthday. My wife decided we should do something to commemorate the two milestones. To that end, a few of my closest family a friends gathered, including my children, relatives from my hometown, folks with whom I went to elementary and high school, college classmates, Fraternity Brothers, former co-workers, and guys I played basketball with, for years. There was music, food, dancing, pictures, and a whole lot of friendship.
As I concentrate on being future-focused, that was a night I will always remember. Threescore And Ten: Next!
I’m done; holla back!
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