Etienne and I went to the funeral of a friend’s Mom today and in a weird way I love going to funerals. I get a chance to have a little cry (which really doesn’t take a lot if you know me at all) and it gives me an opportunity to let my mind wander. (I do mean that in the nicest way possible and I’m hoping not to be struck down by lightning or something being from an NG Kerk background, the Catholic Church of the Afrikaner when it comes to guilt.)
I was thinking about our friend who lost his last parent and their children’s last Grandparent.
And then I thought about the fact that we still have both our parents, despite the fact that I bitch and moan about some of them sometimes (once again, in the nicest way possible of course).
And then I thought about what our parents were doing when they were the same age as we are now. When Etienne’s parents were almost 40 they didn’t have him yet, in fact his Mom wasn’t even pregnant yet. When my parents were almost 40 I was in High School. And my Mom had cancer when she was 42.
Which is quite scary considering that Etienne turns 40 in February and I only (cough) neeeeext year.
I also realized that if our kids have kids at the same age we had them I will be 70 before I see any Grandchildren. Now that’s a scary thought.
And then I thought about getting old. Not in a morbid I’m-going-to-die way. In an I-wonder-how-it-will-be way.
Will I have lots of hobbies? (Definitely. I’m the Hobby Queen)
Will I drink a lot of gin/vodka/wine (Duh)
Will I be cantankerous? (Probably)
When will I stop working? (Hopefully long before then)
When will Etienne retire? (Hopefully not long after me, we have lots of catching up to do)
Where will we live? (By the sea I hope)
Will we still have sex? (Hell yes, that’s what drugs are for)
What will our kids end up doing? (Anything they want)
Will we be grandparents? (I hope so)
Will I interfere? (See under Cantankerous)
How do you feel about getting old? Do you think about getting old and being old? What do you want for your life when you are old?