I’m getting closer and closer to my father’s age, but he’ll never be any older than 61.
It’s weird that if I stood next to him now, to strangers, at the very most he would look like an older brother and we would most likely look even more alike. But to me he would just be my Papa no matter what.
It also makes me think that the real us, the essence of us is our souls and not this outward vessel. There is no age to that. If there is an afterlife, and I am hoping there is. Life feels tragic without one.
As a kid, 61 seemed ancient, but right now it’s actually too young, too soon to go.
People at 61 are fit and vibrant in the year 2023 due to improvements in diet and medical advancements.
I’m glad my Papa didn’t suffer through any long illness and that he never really experienced aging.
The only ones who suffer are those who loved him and have nowhere to place that love. Those who worry about him and have no idea where he is. Those who want to make sure he’s ok and care for him, but can’t. Those who wish he too could also partake in anything enjoyable that they get to do. Those who think life was better and would be better with him in it.