‘…on ageing’
At 63 I hardly feel like I’m old, but there’s no denying the fact that I’m getting ‘older’, a human condition common we all must face. During covid one of the many changes I embraced was the colour of my hair. I know, the conversation about embracing the greys is on trend, but it’s a real thing, and there’s no doubt that from some people’s perspective, grey haired people are old! I’ve written about this topic in another journal entry; ‘All the Grey’s’, but this one highlights a factor I didn’t consider, which has provided another step along the journey.
I have just returned from 5 weeks visiting family in New York. Our grandchildren who are 6, 4 and 1 are also getting older! We don’t categorise them as such but there’s no doubting it. They are taller, smarter, more savvy and older than they were when I saw them last, which was two and a half years ago. The eldest has even lost some ‘baby’ teeth, has gaps and is sporting a couple of ‘adult’ teeth. Of course the tooth fairy is real, and delivers on demand, something that I didn’t experience when sadly I lost my first molar about 2 years ago. Teeth accompany us all throughout our life, and are themselves a sign of ageing!
Even though we talk frequently via facetime, I wasn’t prepared for the changes I encountered in them, and neither were they with mine. It’s not that they haven’t seen the change in my hair colour on screen, but perhaps the light cast some ‘brownish’ tinges and our first early morning waking reunion was met with some shock. Even the welcome drawing that was waiting for me on my bed had me with some silver, but mixed with some highlighted blue pen lines, perhaps to resemble any remaining brown shades, (see below).
Now you’ve got to love the honesty of kids, but when the first words spoken in person after such a long time are in reference to the colour of my hair, expressed with an air of shock-horror I had to dig really deep to remind myself as to why I had made this decision in the first place. It was tough. What did it mean? All of my insecurities and my need for love and acceptance were challenged by the words, and perspective of a 6 year old! In hindsight it’s funny, but at the time (coupled with jet-lag) I had to consciously dig deep for my own sense of ‘I’m ok’ and not be swayed to make a quick trip to the local chemist to turn my greys into brown, reversing all of my hard work just to make her happy.
Over the next few weeks the topic was constant, and there was nothing to do but keep talking about it patiently, and for me, try to figure out what the real issue was. I came to realise that our eldest granddaughter was in fact most concerned about me getting old and dying. Bless. She in all of her 6 years has equated grey hair to old people, and all old grey headed people die. It was hard for her. I also realised that because her and I share (well I used to) the same colour hair, she was worried (I think) that she was going to go grey, like me, which she probably will, eventually! But that’s her journey to take.
Her sister on the other hand is blonde, as is her Pop. He is grey, and there was no fuss or mention about that when he was visiting, in fact I don’t think they even noticed! Besides the fact that blondes grey beautifully, I always say that men grey well and society accepts it without a fuss. The youngest granddaughter didn’t really have an issue with the colour of my hair and eventually she introduced the word ‘wise’ to the conversation. ‘Old people are wise people’. I could handle that. And then the eldest started to use the phrase, ‘Grandmother (their name for me), you are not old, you are just older’. And that’s how we settled it, about 3 weeks into the trip. Finally I could breathe a sigh of relief.
My decision to go grey was well thought out. I considered everything that I thought was important including having conversations with people I love and respect and then embraced it as one of the many changes, losses and gains that occur in the second half of one’s life. My level of discomfort experienced around these conversations with the kids highlighted for me that I’ve still got a way to go in accepting my life where it currently is situated on the trajectory of the passing of time, what my purpose is, and how to best serve those I love in these years.
But it also brought to light the beauty of ageing, and the invitation to continue to be mindful of my inner life, who is being called to a new place of being in the world, not a decline into the shadows of irrelevance but a drawing into the seat of wise Eldering, in this context as a Grandparent. My grandkids need me to be youthful, to play, to give, to turn a blind eye when they mess up, yes, and also to offer them presence, peace, and security in my love for them. Perhaps the colour of my hair will enable them to draw from me what they need as they navigate their own journey of ageing. And perhaps it will help me settle into that role also. And I hope I am able to grow into the wisdom of the Elder as described by one of my Spiritual guides, Richard Rohr, following:
When we can let go of our own need for everything to be as we want it, and our own need to succeed, we can then encourage the independent journey and the success of others. The grand parent is able to relinquish centre stage and to stand on the sidelines, and thus be in solidarity with those who need their support. Children can feel secure in the presence of their grandparents because, while their parents are still rushing to find their way through life’s journey, grandpa and grandma have hopefully become spacious. They can contain problems, inconsistencies, inconveniences, and contradictions—after a lifetime of practicing and learning.
‘I mist you so so so much more than that’ - by Freya (6)