The wife of a physician friend of mine calls him an FIP now that he’s retired. When I asked what she meant, she said an FIP is “Formerly Important Person”. I was never an FIP, but I was an important voice in people’s lives. I never thought I would miss that. People would ask for my opinion on everything from operations, to their sex life and even if they should allow their daughter to go to prom. At the end when I decided to retire I was ready. I was tired of always being on call for my patient’s emergencies. Now I am starting to miss it. This week it will be six years since I left. Sometimes I think even my own family blows me off since “it’s just Dad, or it’s just Jim”. The passage of time has really had an effect on me in that I no longer feel as essential as I once did. I think this season did not help.
This winter was difficult. February was a very dreary month with snow and freezing rain and many cloudy wintery days. I didn’t go to the gym as much. In fact I think I took most of January and February off. I would swim, but didn’t run. . My cousin in Arizona helped a lot by inviting us out there. We went in mid March. This was the first time we had ever taken a winter vacation. When we left it was a cloudy 37 degrees. We got off the plane to 73 degrees and sunny. This is the high season in Arizona. The weather is great. Spring breakers and baseball spring training all happen at the same time. My cousin and his wife were very generous and showed us much of the area. We went for a long walk in shorts and tee shirts every morning in the beautiful weather. We also had a chance to reconnect with some relatives on my father’s side. This was the first time we had seen them in 46 years. Just seeing them and hearing old family stories was important. I found out that my Dad’s father was physically and emotionally abusive to my Dad’s younger brother. This whole family story is constantly changing. My sister was in Arizona at the same time and we began talking about the family. We wondered what had happened to some of our cousins. We began to search and found out that one cousin and his wife had been dead for a number of years. Another cousin had died just two years ago and no one informed us.
I found his brother on Ancestry and wrote him. The family has lived in California for almost sixty years and really lost contact with the rest of us. He was glad to hear from me. He is 76 and still a practicing attorney. I may send him some stuff about our grandparents from Ireland. This whole experience got me to realize that our generation really is passing. We are all seniors now. This mortality thing really is getting more and more present. I think it’s easy to say live in the moment and focus on the present, but the reality is that the present is passing more and more each day.
I have another cousin in Arizona that we visited. She lives there in the winter and in Illinois and Michigan the rest of the year. She is 83 and still very vibrant and full of life. She used to babysit me and the male cousin who invited us to Arizona. She has many family stories and really is one of the last family history resources we have. She told us of a terrifying day when she was 11 years old. She had taken my cousin and I in a stroller to a store to buy us each a toy. On the way back she heard many sirens and found streets blocked off. This was the polio epidemic of the late 1940s. Everyone was terrified. She reports there were daily diagnoses and daily deaths announced at her school. The more she talked, the more I realized that each time has it’s own set of crises. Here I am in my seventies still trying to put some set of meaning on my life’s experience. On some days I can do this with no problems what so ever. Other days are more difficult. I think the deaths of cousins in my own generation has again made me focus on the real boundaries of life. There is a beginning and there is an end. I like to think of Mark Twain’s quote: “I know everybody dies, but I thought they would make an exception in my case. ”
There is no exception. I know my wife and other relatives continue to say I am in good health and should enjoy this time. Most days I can. I just think the cold shower of reality comes up occasionally and makes me realize that time is not endless.
This week our 8 y/o grandson stayed overnight with us. His imagination and energy still amaze us. Yesterday we visited my oldest son and played with our 18-month-old grand daughter. Today we will visit our other son and his 8-month-old daughter. They all have the wonder of discovery and joy and endless love. Right now they are the best medicine I can have for this winter disease. They really do light up my life.