Death and getting old

A good friend of ours died at the weekend and today I went to his funeral. As with all deaths, it is very sad and your heart goes out to those who are left behind, especially when the departed has left such a positive mark on those around them. Of course I was tearful (Extreme Makeover Home makes me weep buckets) and my heart goes out to his family because he was such an exceptional husband, Dad and loyal friend. We only knew him for 3 years, but his impact was definitely felt.

It got me morbidly thinking that it's all downhill from here...and this is the first time I've genuinely thought about it. Death doesn't worry me, it's inevitable, but sickness? I'm thinking that over the next 20/30 years Steve & I are going to get more decrepid and it won't just be migraines and colds. Steve is already having 2 hour physio on his elbow and his legs and I'm assuming he'll get better, but am I being glib as he is just 3 years short of 50? In fact, my Mum was his age when I told her I was pregnant with Sam...a fact he doesn't like to be reminded of!

I found myself at the funeral looking around at the fellow mourners. Harold was only 62 and many of his peers were in attendance. I wondered what was is in store for us? Diabetes? Parkinson? Heart troubles? Walking problems?

Harold had had many problems during the last 5 years, and he took them all in his stride - you never heard him complain or be self involved. He always took the bright side and never discussed the possibility of failure. In fact, he used to joke about them...

He'd broke his back years before on a building site (he was an electrician) and recovered completely. Five years ago he took a very serious heart attack and adapted his life accordingly. In 2007 he was diagnosed with Prostate Cancer and had his Prostate removed shortly after. Then, in 2008 he started getting very bad headaches and dizzy spells. Initially it was felt that they may be a symptom of his heart condition, but in December they discovered a brain tuma. On December 30th they operated and found that the tuma had grown massively and exploded during the surgery. We knew then that there was no hope and unfortunately, we were right.

His life, his marriage and his family were a huge success. I've never known a family so close and so loving, despite both his daughters being out in Western Canada.

RIP Harold, you were loved.

PS...Pass the Kleenex...