With Advancing Age Comes Freedom

At the age of seventy, I am casting my mind back to when I was in my early twenties. Back in those days, I had a completely different perception of old age than I have now. In 1979 my father passed away at the age of 59, which seemed positively ancient. In fact, my father looked more like 79. My mother was only 48 years old when Dad passed away, but the age difference seemed like twice what it was. More than once somebody commented in passing that they had seen my mother in town with her father, which was my Dad. I do not doubt that his time as a German prisoner of war in Poland had a lot to do with Dad's prematurely physical ageing.

These days, due to better living conditions and health care, people do live longer, and they look younger than they actually are. I think one of the other things which aged people back then was the constant worry and stress of living on the breadline, which we did during my entire childhood. It’s all a far cry from that these days, well, at least it is for me. I’m not rich, far from it, but I want for nothing in terms of having the basics covered. A roof over my head, food, warmth, and a loving environment. So far, so good, but here is the best of it.

I always imagined that my life at seventy would be as miserable as sin. On the contrary, my heart is bursting with joy. That’s because I no longer suffer fools gladly. I had far too many fairweather friends who in my time of need abandoned me. Friend-wise, all I am left with is one or two people who really deeply cared for me when I was passing through hard times. In addition, I have lost four children to two vindictive ex-wives and six siblings due to their own innate meanness. I would not pee on them if they were on fire. My family now consists of just me and my wife, as well as her sister, parents and extended family. They are good people who have done far more for me than my own so-called blood family ever did for me.

In the acute absence of any petty highly histrionic dramas, my life is now a haven of peace, tranquillity and personal fulfilment. Now I can do what I like, as and when I choose to do it. I can sit on my backside and do nothing for hours on end if that is what takes my fancy. This is Major League Me-Time. I care only for those who care about me.

Four years ago, for health reasons, I made a move, to the other side of the world. For the first year, I stayed in touch with people through WhatsApp. Then one day it dawned on me that it was always me initiating the calls. So, to see what happened, I stopped calling. I waited and waited and waited. Nobody called. Cost was no excuse as the App is free. They didn’t call because deep down they didn’t care. That’s fine, I prefer it that way. At least I know where I stand.

So at long last, I felt a wonderful sense of freedom. Nobody can buy or sell me, I am my own man. I live a very modest life with nothing more than a second-hand bike, an AppleMac and a lovely wife. I need nothing more. There have been many times in my life when I yearned to be wealthy for the imagined freedom it would bring. I was wrong. I have discovered that you can only feel a true sense of freedom when you have nothing more to lose. Nothing except your life, and a darn fine life it is, if you want it.