First, let me say that I did not write the following, I received it in an email last year from a close friend who has now passed into history. I don’t think he wrote it, but I wouldn’t be surprised if he had. I have modified it to suit my own particular situation.

I was contemplating writing a post about this very subject, then I remembered this email which states the way I feel so much better than I can. I don’t usually copy other peoples work and claim originality (well, perhaps just a little bit!), so if the originator of it comes forward I will give him/her credit.

“As I’ve aged, I’ve become kinder to myself, and less critical of myself, but more cynical of the way of the world is nowadays.

I’ve become my own best friend; in fact my only friend now. I don’t chide myself for eating that extra cake or biscuit, or for not making my bed, or for buying those gadgets that I didn’t need, but love to play with. I am entitled to a treat, to be messy, to be extravagant.

Whose business is it if I choose to play on the computer until 3am and sleep until noon? I will dance with myself to those wonderful tunes of the 50′s & 60′s, and if I, at the same time, I wish to weep over a lost love ….. I will.

I will walk along the beach in shorts that are stretched over a beer-belly, and will dive into the waves with abandon if I choose to, despite the pitying glances from the younger generations. They, too, will get old one day if they don’t drug and smoke themselves to death beforehand.

I know I am sometimes forgetful. But there again, some of life is just as well forgotten, and I eventually remember the important things.

Sure, over the years my heart has been broken. How can your heart not break when you lose a loved one, or when a child dies, or even when your beloved cat gets hit by a car? Broken hearts are what give us strength and understanding and compassion. A heart never broken is pristine and sterile and will never know the joy of being imperfect.

I am so blessed to have lived long enough to have my hair turning grey and eventually fall out, and to have my youthful laughs(?) forever etched into deep grooves on my face.

I have seen too many close friends leave this world too soon, before they understood the great freedom that comes with aging. So many of them have never laughed, and so many have died before their hair could turn silver.

As you get older, it is easier to be positive. You care less about what other people think. I don’t question myself any more. I’ve even earned the right to be wrong when it suits me.

I like being old. It has set me free. I like the person I have become. I am not going to live forever, but while I am still here, I will not waste time lamenting what could have been, or worrying about what will be. I shall eat crisps, chocolate and cakes, and drink beer and Pastis every single day”.

This is a follow up to my post on the same subject last year.