Let Me Vent

A friend recovering from a medical event made more difficult by life’s vagaries, some self-inflicted. Alone due to a late life divorce and an only child in his passage to adulthood, my friend is exposed to a porous safety net that so many pass through. A rehab facility that fails to adhere to its reason for existence gladfully taking possession of his social security benefits, leaving him controlled by a system that sees my friend more as an entry on an income statement rather than a human being with passions and desires.

A group of men have mobilized, contributing resources and companionship to my friend as he attempts to navigate these troubled waters. The motivation of all is honorable but at times misguided. Conversations emerge on the periphery about what’s the “right” living options when he’s released from his captors. Frequently my friend is not part of these conversations, and his siblings push in the direction of so-called independent-living options. I question in whose interest their predispositions lie? My friend fails to take hold of the tiller, maybe a consequence of losing so much of what defined him in the past and lacking the resources to control the discussions.

Is this situation nuanced, or is it a reflection of a larger disease that leaves older men my like my friend emasculated and infantilized? What can one say about a culture that corrals its elders into institutionalized holding pens so that their offspring can continue with their lives without the inconvenient intrusion and demands of aging parents? Where do patriarchs go when they’ve been stripped of the dignity and importance of their stature? Is there any wonder why men 75 or older have the highest suicide rate?

I fear the day when my opinions and thoughts no longer register as credible or important with my family. Will the day come when conversations about dad occur outside earshot, where my desires are dismissed as being outside realistic and responsible realms, and dismissive comments cut deep? I hope that day never comes. This is the reason why I refuse to hear the voices of others when they judge my dreams of adventure as too dangerous. I would rather die in the arena of living than perish cowering in the morass of cultural expectations and stereotypes.

Too my friend, take up arms and pushback against those that encircle you. Call the shots that define your life going forward. You cannot predict what will happen tomorrow, but today is all that matters. Live it according to your terms.