“Life is really simple, but men insist on making it complicated.” --Confucius
One-hundred years old.
Now that is a long life. A very long life. The rarest of human lives.
If you or I were to make it all the way to the day we celebrate our one hundredth year of life on this earth, we’d be very much in the minority. In the world, we’d be among only 573,000 people out of 7.8 billion folks and in the United States, just 97,000 centenarians are alive out of 328 million souls. At 100 you’d also beat average life expectancies: for men in the U.S., it’s 75 years and for women 80 years. The toll of COVID shaved almost a full year off those numbers.
All pointing to one truth: make it to the day you’ll see 100 candles on your cake, and you will be the rarest of souls.
One-hundred years old. Four years ago this Saturday, my grandfather Armand Bolduc died, after a long and very good life of 103 years. To put that number into perspective, I was blessed by God to have a grandfather until I was 56 years old! On the day he left this earth, he left behind four children, 17 grandchildren, 29 great grandchildren and one great great grandchild. He also out lived two wives, both of whom he loved very much.
Having attained my sixtieth year not so long ago, that big day made me wonder: what would I have to do to get on the same calendar as Grandpa? To live until the year 2064? I know chances are very much that I won’t. Most of us will not live so long and yet: there has got to be something special in the lives of centenarians that gets them to triple digits in age.
There are obvious health factors. Don’t smoke. Drink and eat with care. Everything in moderation: that was my Grandfather’s go-to piece of life advice when asked. Get out and exercise regularly. My Grandfather never took up any formal physical activity regime, though he did bicycle most days while in his seventies and eighties, for errands around his home on the Florida Keys. That no doubt helped in his aging process. It obviously helps to have dependable healthcare and so I thank God for Medicare that took such good care of him and right now is also taking very good care of Grandpa’s soon to be 86-year-old daughter, my Mom. Watch out for high-risk activities. Grandpa wasn’t a sky diver or a race car driver though he did love to drive fast and fun cars, his first being a Ford Model T. These are all obvious longevity factors, I suppose.
But I think the best life and the longest of lives are also marked by intangibles, circumstances and life disciplines that can’t be measured on an actuarial table. To love and to be loved fully, faithfully, and generously: I’ve no doubt that this made Grandpa a healthier and happier person. There is something so debilitating about a lack of love in this life and loneliness, absolutely. I wonder and worry about how many of our senior neighbors and friends and family member this COVID year have lost years of life, for lack of simple human contact. Human touch. Face to face conversation. Hugs and kisses from adult children and grandchildren. Shared meals around a common table. I pray coming out of COVID we might recommit ourselves to such simple and lifesaving actions of the heart.
So too I imagine faith—faith in something bigger than yourself, faith in God; it must be of help to living a rich life in the fullest sense. The best faith reminds us daily of the need for gratitude in all circumstances and of our responsibility to love our neighbors. Grandpa rarely if ever missed Catholic Mass on Sundays and often during the week he would also watch a service on TV. His was not a faith of cliché platitudes or showiness: no. He loved his God in quietude and commitment and lived out his faith in humility. There’s a life lesson for all of us.
But in watching how my grandfather lived, I’d say that one thing, more than any other, brought him into his tenth decade on earth and then some. He appreciated each day as a gift from God, every day. The great ones where life is sweet and kind and easy and the hard ones too, when life is a slog or painful or difficult. It helped him to have lived through two world wars and the Depression and having been widowed twice in life. I think he knew just how precious this life is, all the days, not one left out or wasted. In my phone calls to him later in his life, I’d always ask, “How are you!” and he’d always answer, “Good! I woke up and I put my feet on the floor. That’s a good day.”
Hard to believe he’s been gone now, four years on. His life makes me want to pray for all people, that they too might have someone special like him in this life, a kind and good soul, who teaches us about how to live a good life and how to live well every day, until that one day we die. He certainly gave that gift to me.
Will any of us live to 100? The few, the very few. Me? I’m just trying to live my best in this one God-given day. It’s the only one I have. The only day any of us have. And that’s a good and a beautiful thing.
Thanks Grandpa. I miss you. Love you!
The Reverend John F. Hudson is Senior Pastor of the Pilgrim Church, United Church of Christ, in Sherborn (pilgrimsherborn.org). If you have a word or idea you’d like defined in a future column or have comments, please send them to pastorjohn@pilgrimsherborn.org or in care of The Dover-Sherborn Press (Dover-Sherborn@cnc.com).
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