I’m getting scared. I mean, really, really scared. My body is laughing at me, my eyes see things that aren’t there, and my brain plays tricks on me telling me it’s Monday when it’s Sunday or that it’s Monday when it’s Tuesday, making me forget where I put things and if I took one pill or two pills, and if it’s September or October.

Not funny guys!

Hubby and I sit and laugh at each other. Sometimes we cry, too. We’re both frustrated with our decaying bodies and absent-minded brains and wonder what a year from now is going to look like. I fear that some day my son will visit my sunken shell in the nursing home and wonder who that old woman is and what she did with his mother. I fear that his heart will rupture and bleed and I can’t kiss away his pain.

When we enter that brand new world where old people go to die, no one rolls out the red carpet for us to walk on. No one stands at the golden portals handing out pamphlets telling us what to expect. No welcome committee, no happy smiles no pats on the back. Just a big fat royal kick in the butt. A learn as you go, cold and cruel, sink or swim, everyone else’s world keeps spinning but your’s kick in the butt. It’s the beginning of the end and only those of us who are  there can know the grueling struggle it takes to survive in it.

But it’s not all cloudy and rainy. I love not having to get up and go to work every day. I enjoy lounging in my pajamas, cutting up with my husband, and doing nothing all day. I like cleaning when I want to. I like putting things off till tomorrow or the next day or dooms day. I like not having to follow a set of rules that no longer apply to me. I don’t have to dress up, put on a pretty face, paint my nails or even shave my legs if I don’t want to. I’m retired! I’m free! I can still do stuff! I’m happy and well and strong . . . kinda sorta.

So yes, I’ve entered the twilight zone, the beginning of the end of my life here on earth. It’s spooky, it’s scary, it’s clouded with uncertainties. But it is what it is. I can’t do a darned thing to change it. I can either dry up and blow away or I can continue to live until God calls me home. I can be scared to death or I can trust God. I can cry and moan and groan or I can praise God and thank Him for the blessings He has provided and continues providing every single day of my dwindling life.

I can’t do this without Him. I won’t do this without Him. It’s just too freaking dark and lonely and scary.