Aging

Aging isn't for sisies, I've read. This last year has proven that. I finally got my masters degree...a week after my youngest daughter got hers!!
Another daughter almost died this fall, and there was nothing we could do but support her in her fight to wellness, which was also taken out of my hands because she moved to the coast.
I developed crazy elevations in blood pressure and looked stroke in it's ugly face and made it through.
My mother died after years of being absent in the world of dementia/alzheimers.
I know all that sort of drama has always been in the world. I've watched others survive the same episodes and grow stronger. But it isn't for sissies, this growing and being what I've witnessed others do. It has been a hard year.
Happiness, you betcha, new son in law, grandkids growing healthy, stable, strong. Daughters chasing dreams and kids and men and more than they ever thought to look for. I love those beauties of older age. But it still isn't for sissies. Even the beauties are about being less, the goal of parenting is to do it so well, the teaching and prodding, supporting and pushing: until they don't need you. Isn't that a heartbreaking statement?
Being proud of the job we've done all together, this village raising our children, reinforces the fact that we all put ourselves out of the job. Like firing ourselves, laying us off due to no need. Winning at mothering makes me unemployed...it's a good thing I'm not a sissy. Just proud.