{"id":3788,"date":"2026-10-14T07:46:32","date_gmt":"2026-10-14T07:46:32","guid":{"rendered":"https:\/\/miles2go.ca\/?p=3788"},"modified":"2026-10-14T13:59:15","modified_gmt":"2026-10-14T13:59:15","slug":"staring-into-a-blank-screen","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"https:\/\/miles2go.ca\/index.php\/2026\/10\/14\/staring-into-a-blank-screen\/","title":{"rendered":"Staring into a blank screen"},"content":{"rendered":"

A noble declaration on aging.<\/strong><\/p>\n

Aging is not for the faint of heart.<\/em>
\nOne day, you wake up and realize –\u00a0 youth has quietly slipped away.<\/em>
\nBut it didn’t leave alone.<\/em>
\nIt took with it your insecurities, your rush to please, your fear of not being enough.<\/em><\/p>\n

And in its place?<\/em>
\nIt left you with something stronger:<\/em>
\nA slower pace, but a steadier step.<\/em>
\nThe wisdom to say goodbye without fear.<\/em>
\nThe grace to cherish those who choose to stay.<\/em>
\nThe power to be you, unapologetically.<\/em><\/p>\n

Aging isn’t about losing – it’s about letting go.<\/em>
\nIt’s about learning to accept, to release, and to truly see:<\/em>
\nThat beauty was never just in the mirror. . .<\/em>
\nIt lived in every story, scar, and silent strength we carried within.<\/em><\/p>\n

Aging is a gift. Wear it with dignity.<\/em><\/p>\n

This poetic gesture towards the beauty of aging has been attributed to various authors. But it really doesn’t matter who wrote it, does it. It is worth the time for you to pause and read again.<\/p>\n

The poem captures our aging imagination as we realize the rear view mirror is growing larger than the windshield of life. Figuring out how to process what we see in both directions is both a delight and a dilemma. The promises of the poem are clearly attractive. But they are only one side of the aging reality.<\/p>\n

The rest of the story.<\/strong><\/p>\n

We need the encouragement offered by the poem’s optimistic approach to aging. Read it every day. Live in its joys to the best of our ability. But we also face the rest of the story. The realities that lurk on the road ahead beyond the grasp of the poem. The less-than-desirable aspects of a body and\/or mind that gradually succumb to the passage of time.<\/p>\n

My example below is rather harsh but illustrates a dimension of reality beyond the optimism. A time, for many of us, when the fulfilment promised by the poem is gradually replaced by the futility of increasing loss. What will life be like then?<\/p>\n

Staring at a blank screen.<\/strong><\/p>\n

The care home was a pleasant facility with staff who showed a personal interest in the residents. It was safe, warm, and provided all the basic necessities of life for those who increasingly were not able to do so for themselves. And, for some (too many) it became the base for family life (such as it was) when one’s core family could not, or would not, be present any longer.<\/p>\n

When I walked into her room, she was sitting in front of the television set, staring into a blank screen. I didn’t think anything of it at the time and settled into a pleasant visit. Compared to previous visits, she did a better job of getting out the occasional full sentence, not stalling as often after the first few words.<\/p>\n

I arranged for a FaceTime visit with her grandchildren who lived quite far away. It was rewarding to see the joy flow through her as they excitedly reported on all their activities. Before leaving, I asked if she wanted the television on. “Yes please.” The result was harsh static noise and a screen full of snow. She had messed up the remote control and lost all connection.<\/p>\n

A staff person was willing to come\u00a0 and fix the problem once done with several other tasks. After some fussing, I sorted it out. She didn’t seem to care what channel I selected. A baseball game looked like it would last a few hours. As I was saying goodbye, she didn’t notice. Her eyes were fixed on the television screen.<\/p>\n

At that moment I realized what happened earlier that morning. After losing the connection, she would have turned the television on and off many times. And, getting nothing but noise and snow, she eventually left it off and settled into simply sitting there and staring into the blank screen.<\/p>\n

That is the picture I have of her now. It is her new reality.<\/p>\n

Yet I remember her in a previous life. She was a professional career woman, capably independent, actively engaged socially and culturally. The contrast adds to my sense that it isn’t enough to speak only of aging gracefully with the poem. There is also the reality of simply getting old.<\/p>\n

When does ‘old’ begin?<\/strong><\/p>\n

Given the gradual increase in life expectancy, sociologists have adjusted the time frames for stages of life. The sanctity of 65 as being old is now pass\u00e9 – “out of date, no longer fashionable, old-fashioned.” Middle adulthood now carries through to 65. And Old Age (late adulthood) has three parts:<\/p>\n