It takes a lot of courage to grow old.
I’ve come to appreciate this after conversations with hundreds of older people over the past eight years in nearly 200 “Navigating Aging” columns.
Time and time again, people described what it means to let go of the certainties they once lived with and adapt to new circumstances.
The lives of these elderly people are full of changes. They don’t know what the future holds, except that the end is closer than ever.
And yet, they find ways to adapt. To move forward. To find meaning in their lives. And I am deciding to follow this path as I prepare for retirement.
Patricia Estess, 85, of the Brooklyn borough of New York, spoke eloquently about the unpredictability of the end of life when I contacted her while reporting on a series of articles about the elderly who live alone, sometimes called “lone seniors.”
Estess had taken a course on aging solo. “You realize other people are in the same boat as you,” she replied when I asked her what she had learned. “We all face uncertainty.”
Think about the questions older people – whether they live alone or with others – ask themselves year after year: Will my bones break? Will my thinking skills and memory last? Will I be able to climb the stairs in my house, where I’m trying to age in place?
Will beloved friends and family members remain a continuing source of support? If not, who will be there to provide help when needed?
Will I have enough money to live a long and healthy life, if this is planned? Will community and government resources be available, if necessary?
It takes courage to face these uncertainties and move towards the unknown with a certain serenity.
“It’s all about attitude,” Estess told me. “I’ve honed an attitude like, ‘I’m getting old.’ Things are going to happen. I will do what I can to plan ahead. I will be more careful. But I will deal with things as they arise.
For many people, getting older changes their sense of identity. They feel like strangers to themselves. Their bodies and minds no longer function as they used to. They no longer feel the sense of control they once felt.
This requires a different kind of courage: the courage to embrace and accept yourself.
Photographer Marna Clarke spent more than a dozen years documenting her changing body and life with her partner as they aged. Along the way, she learned to see aging with new eyes.
“Now I think there is a beauty that comes out of people when they accept who they are,” she told me in 2022, when she was 70, just before her husband died. husband, aged 93.
Arthur Kleinman, a Harvard professor now 83, gained a deeper sense of soul after caring for his beloved wife, who suffered from dementia and eventually died, leaving him in grief.
“We endure, we learn to endure, to continue. We are marked, we are hurt, we are hurt. We have changed, in my case for the better,” he told me when I interviewed him in 2019. He was referring to a new sense of vulnerability and empathy he had acquired as a helper.
Herbert Brown, 68, who lives in one of Chicago’s poorest neighborhoods, was philosophical when I met him at his building’s annual barbecue in June.
“I was a very wild person in my youth. I’m surprised I lived this long,” he said. “I never planned on becoming a senior. I thought I was going to die before this happened.
Truth be told, no one is ever ready to grow old, including me. (I will be 70 in February.)
Put it down to denial or the limits of imagination. As May Sarton, a writer who has thought deeply about aging, said so well: old age is “a foreign country with an unknown language.” I, along with all my friends of the same age, are surprised that we arrived at this destination.
For me, 2025 is a turning point. I am retiring after four decades as a journalist. Mostly, I wrote about our country’s extremely complex health care system. For the past eight years, I have focused on the unprecedented growth of the elderly population – the most important demographic trend of our time – and its many implications.
In a way, I am ready to take on the challenges that lie ahead. In many ways, I am not.
The biggest unknown is what will happen to my vision. I have moderate macular degeneration in both eyes. Last year I lost central vision in my right eye. How long will my left eye take over? What will happen when this eye deteriorates?
Like many people, I hope that scientific advances will outpace the progression of my disease. But I’m not counting on that. In reality, I need to plan for a future in which I might become partially blind.
It will take courage to face it.
Then there’s the matter of my four-story house in Denver, where I’ve lived for 33 years. Climbing stairs helped me stay in shape. But this will not be possible if my vision deteriorates.
So my husband and I are taking a leap into the unknown. We are renovating the house, installing an elevator and inviting our son, daughter-in-law and grandson to move in with us. Becoming intergenerational. Give up privacy. In return, we hope that our home will be full of support and love.
There is no guarantee that this will work. But we try.
Without all the conversations I’ve had over all these years, I might not have been up for it. But I have come to understand that “no guarantees” is not a reason to be stubborn and resist change.
Thank you to everyone who took the time to share their experiences and ideas about aging. Thank you for your openness, honesty and courage. These conversations will become even more important in the years to come, as baby boomers like me move through the 70s, 80s and beyond. Let the conversations continue.
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(KFF Health News is a national newsroom that produces in-depth journalism on health issues and is one of the core operating programs of KFF – the independent source for health policy research, polling and journalism.)
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