grown up ?

 In the blog I wrote the yesterday I said, our final chapters will be written in memory. That thought has lingered and I find in it a bit of melancholy. Is that what old age is supposed to be ? I don't think so, but many elders I meet seem to reside in that place. Some are angry, some are just what I would call resigned. All share their memories. They speak of what used to be. I often find myself doing the same and so can empathize. There is a certain sadness in the telling. It is also a comfort, at least it is to me. For in telling the stories we relive the moment. The sadness is in knowing those moments lie in the past and are not likely to be found in the future. Our future is uncertain and unknown to us. Gone is the confidence of youth, that we will live forever. It has been replaced with that resignation, the certainty of our own mortality. Our memory is a comfort, a reassurance of a life lived.
 I'm thinking that thought has more to do with the realization of my mortality than actual memories. I don't know when that happened, that realization. I don't believe it had anything to do with others passing, for that happened to them. I am still here and alive. But somewhere along this journey I have come to understand and accept that reality. I will also become nothing more than a memory. Does that mean I have reached adulthood ? Am I now " grown up ? " I do think you have to reach a certain maturity before you can understand that. It is not a matter of age but of experience. For some that experience is gained early on and for others it may never happen. Perhaps that is why some live in memory and others just continue to make them. I think I would prefer the later but that has been compromised by life. I'll blame it on my sentimental nature. The lesson was learned but I don't recall the teaching. I have never faced a life threatening diagnosis or survived a serious accident, no close calls with death. I can understand an awakening of awareness should that happen, but with me it has been a subtle experience. The truth of the situation is not lost upon me. I feel no fear for that eventuality, only a sadness. I think I'll cry at my own funeral. I believe I'll rejoice after its' over and that is as it should be.
 Those words will stay with me for a while, "our final chapters will be written in memory," as I contemplate their meaning. Could be they are nothing more than a random thought and not a part of anything. It is also just as likely that they are telling me something. I believe in talking to myself, half the time I'm the only one listening ! I don't always listen either. But that is another thing entirely. I hope you readers find something in this ramblin' to think about. If you want to share what you think those words may mean feel free to do so. In fact I welcome that.