A jazzy bossa nova drifted in from my sound system, and I thought of my friend Oscar who recently died. Oscar was taken by something as banal as Clostridioides difficile (C. diff), a deadly bacterial infection that struck after he was weakened battling cancer and other illnesses for several years.
A buddy once described the death of a close friend in his age group as “they’re shooting at our troops now”. Baby boomer demographers would agree-–our cohort is under attack.
An aging and grief crisis is coming. In an eye-opening article I came across by Lloyd Alter in Substack, he noted that this year, “the first baby boomers will hit 80, when they become the “old-old.’” They then are joined by 10,000 other boomers every day, until by 2029 the entire baby boomer cohort is over 65 and comprises a whopping 20 percent of the population, with well over half being old-old.”
Over the next decade or so we are looking at a lot of boomers getting their driver licenses taken away (or should have them taken away), a huge uptick in Uber rides for the so-called elderly, full enrollment in longevity clinics, a hearing aid sales boom, a dramatic increase in Pickle Ball injuries, increased demand for assisted living facilities, and loud, unfiltered comments from our aging boomers who just don’t give a damn anymore.
Given these realities, Andy Dufresne’s famous line from the film The Shawshank Redemption seems apt: “It comes down to a simple choice, really. Get busy living or get busy dying.”
Only you get to define what “living” means—and it should revolve around what makes you happy, not other people. Workout, travel, eat well, go on a cruise, step outside and appreciate the view, learn an instrument, take a class, spend time with your children and grandchildren, and especially cherish your closest and oldest friends.
Robert Reich, professor, author, lawyer, and political commentator, who just turned 80 years old, recently posted an article titled “You Can’t Make Old Friends”. He wrote: “An old friend of mine passed recently. When an old friend passes, you can’t replace them with another old friend. You have only a limited number of people who have shared your history, moved through life with you, talked and laughed and pondered the universe and their lives with you.” He added, “But old friendships don’t last forever because neither they nor we last forever.”
Oscar was always busy living. He was born in Santiago, Chile, where he lived until his early twenties, then came to the United States with only a suitcase of clothes and a suitcase of books. He spoke little English and knew no one when he arrived in New York. He became a pediatrician in Queens, NY, practicing until he retired in 2007. He was the kindest person I have ever met, except for his husband Jeffrey.
Over the last few years, Oscar continued to stay busy living, traveling, and seeing family and friends while stoically battling illness. Oscar walked the walk. He never complained. Rather than spend hours in an endless organ recital of his surgeries, illnesses, and treatment regimens, he expressed gratitude and focused on the next fun thing he wanted to do. His approach to life serves as an inspiring example of how to face our own mortality.
