They say it's the era of the 100-year life, but what we should count is the 'time we can move'.

#20241015-473

Tuesday, October 15, 2024
At 52, when I hear the phrase "the era of the 100-year life", I thought, "I'm only halfway through".
That's a bit too simple of a calculation, even for me.

Even the 52 years I've lived so far weren't filled with being able to do everything from the moment I was born.
I learned how to move my body, learned how to communicate through laughing and crying, and learned Japanese.
I felt and thought, but I was bad at putting those things into words to convey to others, and it feels like I only managed to start doing so after I turned 30. I think I'm about 10 years behind others in grasping various things.
Because of that, it feels like I only started to see the world around me when I turned 30, and I only started moving by my own will after I got married at 40. I had been doing what I wanted and going where I wanted to go before that, so it's strictly "in terms of feeling".
As the years go by—though the lenses of my eyes have started to develop presbyopia—my mind's eye has become clearer, and I've begun to be able to see the world little by little.
It's become interesting.
That's why my heart leaped at the phrase "the era of the 100-year life".
I thought I was still only halfway there.

Last month, my father's doctor told me he didn't have long to live, and I re-examined the time I have left.

My father is 81, my mother is 77 (Kiju, her 77th birthday!).
Until very recently, my father grew vegetables in a small city-owned plot, and if the weather was nice, he would go for a slow jog in the park with my mother every other day. He didn't like going into the city; during the day, he would jog, work in the garden, do housework, and shop at the supermarket. In the evening, he liked to take an early bath, have a small drink, and watch TV. My father loves books, but since he developed age-related macular degeneration, it seems reading text has become difficult. Even so, he reads the newspaper from cover to cover every day.
He doesn't have any particular hobbies—he likes driving, but for the last few years, he's only gone to the park where he jogs, the local supermarket, and the garden—and he doesn't have any particular friends.
Even so, it seems there are people who admire him, and very occasionally he gets invitations or visitors. While he is with them, my father is smiling, cheerful, and talks a lot, but if you ask if he would then move to go see them himself, that's not the case. He doesn't initiate interactions either. It's not that he's passive, but I can't help but think that "refuse no one who comes, pursue no one who leaves" describes my father perfectly.
He is always cheerful and seems content as long as my mother is there; he doesn't seem lonely.

In contrast, my mother likes the city.
She is interested in handiwork like embroidery, and she has always been taking lessons since I can remember.
Dressmaking, Japanese sewing, pottery, embroidery.
There are genres where she has reached a considerable level of skill, but she dislikes teaching others, and she never goes beyond the realm of a student, saying, "It's fine as long as I'm enjoying it."
She has long-lasting friendships.
Starting with people from her hometown, she has friends everywhere—where my father was transferred after they married, and where she took lessons—and she meets them for lunch whenever she gets the chance.
At first glance, she is bright and sociable, but it's funny because she gets angry if she's seen that way.
She is an indoor person and doesn't want to exercise, but when my father takes her to the park, she diligently walks while holding her parasol.

Before the COVID-19 pandemic, they often traveled as a couple, both domestically and internationally.
They preferred visiting distant countries because they believed they had to go while they still had the physical strength. Because of the pandemic, it's hard to talk about "what ifs," but they probably would have traveled abroad until they were about 75.
If it's domestic, they were traveling together just this summer, so they might be able to do that until they are 80.

Watching my parents, if there are no health problems, it seems they can move until 75 for overseas and 80 for domestic.
Now, I am 52.
My foster daughter Noko (5th grade) is 10. Even being generous, I think it will take another 10 years before she doesn't need my eyes or hands on her. If so, will parenting reach a milestone at 62? No, no, watching my parents, they still worry about me and my sister more than themselves, so I think you are a "parent" for life and "parenting" for life, but well, as a temporary milestone.
If I want to move abroad, I have 13 years, and 18 years for domestic..
After 80, it would be fine if I could spend my life happily within a radius of a few kilometers.
Everything is based on the assumption that I and the people around me are healthy, but when I re-examine it like this, 52 is not halfway.
The time when I can fly around freely is shorter than I thought.
I don't intend to be greedy about things that are beyond my station, but time is finite.
Moreover, about my father.
And about my mother.
And then, there are Mu-kun's (my husband's) parents as well.
There are many things I don't know how they will turn out, so it's not something I can plan, but if I don't become conscious of the "time I can move" rather than just life, I will misjudge things.
What should I cherish, and what should I discard?
My eyes become stern.