Milestones & Mortality

It's interesting how life sprinkles these little reminders of the relentless march of time into our everyday experiences. Just the other morning, as my wife and I were saying our goodbyes before her commute, her attention was drawn to a newly emerged grey hair nestled within my moustache. Her playful attempt to pluck it, accompanied by a chuckle, was one of those subtle nudges that underscore the ongoing process of aging. These quiet markers – a new wrinkle, a less familiar reflection in the mirror – serve as gentle, if infrequent, reminders of our finite existence. While it's not a thought I often linger on, the reality of mortality is an undeniable aspect of the human condition.

These reflections on time's passage and our eventual departure are often amplified during significant milestones, even those that aren't my own. Attending my father-in-law's recent 70th birthday celebration, and shortly thereafter, my own father's 75th, brought these themes into sharper focus. These occasions, joyous as they are, also carry a subtle undercurrent of contemplation about the years that have passed and those that lie ahead for all of us.

The significance of milestones

The parade of recent milestones began a little earlier than initially planned with my father-in-law's 70th birthday. Originally slated for January, the threat of a looming "wintermaggedon" necessitated a postponement until the milder embrace of April. The celebration itself was a vibrant reflection of his personality – a camouflage-themed gathering, a nod to his penchant for the print. More than that, he's also a steel pan playing, sweet bread making, all day liming, born and bred Trini.

Snapshots from Pops Wilson's big 70th. Held in Montreal, Quebec. (swipe left or right to see more if on mobile)

The following week brought my own father's 75th birthday, an occasion that unfolded somewhat unexpectedly. His initial desire was to orchestrate an old boys' reunion with friends from his past in Luidas Vale, Jamaica, where he grew up. However, living now in Connecticut, the years had unfortunately taken their toll on his peer group, a reality he seemed to have overlooked. Sensing a potential trajectory that would leave one of these geriatrics either in a police station or a hospital, my sisters and I swiftly intervened, redirecting the celebration towards a more familial affair – a warm birthday dinner surrounded by his children, grandchildren, and great-grandchildren.

Snapshots from Boogie's 75th birthday in Hartford, Connecticut. We started off with a paint and sip with my two sisters and three lovely nieces (Boogie's granddaughters). Then a couple days later had a bigger gathering with other family members and friends. (swipe left or right to see more if on mobile)

Looking ahead, I eagerly anticipate my mother's annual spring visit to Canada, which conveniently occurs a few weeks after her birthday on May 1st. This trip has become her well-deserved vacation, a period where I happily assume the roles of chef, housekeeper, and chauffeur, catering to her every whim during my teaching hiatus.

Finally, this May marks a significant personal milestone – Natasha and I will celebrate our fifth wedding anniversary. Our journey to this point began in the unusual circumstances of 2020, when we exchanged vows in a quiet ceremony with just two witnesses due to the pandemic. The larger celebration had to wait, finally materializing in 2022 with a vow renewal once restrictions eased, allowing us to share our commitment with a wider circle of loved ones. These clustered milestones serve as vivid markers in the unfolding narrative of our lives, each carrying its own unique story and significance.

Family, friends, and funerals

There's a certain disquiet that settles in as one enters this particular stage of life, a point where the abstract concept of mortality begins to take on a more concrete form. It's the age where news of family or friends succumbing to prolonged illnesses, or the sudden shock of someone "just waking up dead one day," as we say back home in Jamaica, becomes a part of the fabric of life. Each such instance carries a jolt, a moment of pause where I find myself surprised by their age, a mirror reflecting my own, and the inevitable question, "Could that have been me?"

Up to this point, the occasions that have required me to attend a funeral have been few and far between – easily counted on one hand. Yet, as the years stretch ahead, a stark reality emerges. Given the natural progression of life, it seems almost certain that I will be attending at least that many again, if not more, within the next two decades. This forward gaze inevitably leads to a more personal inquiry: will I even be here in twenty years to witness those moments? The possibility that the answer might be no is a sobering thought, a reminder of the finite nature of our time.

The legacy we leave behind

I often find myself pondering the myriad ways our world will have transformed a century from now. It's a thought exercise tinged with the quiet acceptance that I will most certainly not be around to witness those changes unfold. Even the prospect of another half-century feels like a generous estimation. This realization, however, isn't a cause for despair, but rather a focusing lens. It sharpens the importance of the present and the immediate future.

Knowing that my personal timeline is finite encourages a more deliberate approach to how I spend my remaining years. The grand, sweeping changes of the next century may remain a mystery to me, but the smaller, more immediate impacts are within my reach. My focus, therefore, shifts to the tangible: nurturing the deep love I share with my wife until my very last breath, striving to make a meaningful contribution to my academic discipline, investing my time and wisdom in the lives of the younger generation within my family, and being a good friend and a responsible citizen within my broader social landscape. These are the spheres where I can actively sow seeds and hope to see positive growth.

Ultimately, the vast, unknowable future is beyond my control. What I can influence are the connections I forge, the knowledge I share, and the love I give. If, at the end of my time, I can look back and know that I have loved fully, contributed meaningfully to my field, supported the next generation, and been a good presence in the lives of those around me, then I will consider it a life well-lived. The grand scale of history may continue its relentless march, but the small, personal acts of kindness, love, and contribution ripple outwards in ways we may never fully comprehend. And perhaps, in those ripples, lies the most meaningful legacy of all.

Update

Here's a few pics of Natasha and I enjoying fireworks at Niagara Falls for our 5th wedding anniversary.