Happy heavenly 80th Birthay, Dad!

Happy heavenly 80th Birthay, Dad! 

My dad had always said that 80 was a good age to die because you're still young enough to not be SO old. He felt that, at 80 years old, he would be ready to call it quits before things got too bad. He didn't make it that far - he died last year at 78 (which was a blessing considering the Lewy Body Dementia). 

I always thought that 80 was a pretty young age to want to call it quits but when you lost your wife (my mom) over 3 decades before, it made some sense. In reality, however, most of the people in my dad's life didn't live past 80. 

His mom, Alice, died at 75 and his dad, also Fred, died at 84 in January 2004, but also had dementia (probably Lewy Body) for his last 4-6 years. The last time I saw my Grandpa Jewell was at my Grandma Kelly's funeral (my mom's mom) in December 1998. We were a bit concerned that he would make it home okay on his own, but he assured us he would and he did.

My Grandpa Jewell had 2 brothers (George & Bill) and a sister (Marie) and only one of them lived past 80. His Uncle Bill was 86 when he passed. My Grandma Jewell (Alice) had 3 sisters. Her older sister, Agnes, died of tuberculosis at 22 and my grandma got TB from her. My grandma lost a lung and spent a lot of time in sanitariums in her 20s and 30s. Of her two younger sisters (Sylvia and Virginia - called Babe), the youngest (Babe) died when Babe was 28. Sylvia lived a few months longer than Alice did and died at 76 years old. 

Looking at these facts, I am now not surprised by some of my grandma's behavior that I thought was odd. She always said she would not live to see my brothers' or my next big accomplishment - graduate high school, graduate college, get married, have kids, etc. - and she always got all over her sister, Sylvia, about what she ate and her health. With her other two sisters dying so young and having lost a lung to TB, she really beat the odds making it to 75. So her behaviors and thoughts make more sense to my 52-year old brain. By the way, all three of us grandkids were college graduates, married, and two of us had a kid before she died.

My dad grew up in the household with his mom (when she was healthy enough to be there), his dad (after WWII - which ended when my dad was 2), his 2 aunts, and his maternal grandma and grandpa. My dad's maternal grandma, Joan (Jennie), pretty much raised him as a young child and through his youth. She died at the age of 61 when my dad was 17 (another reason for my grandma to think she wasn't going to live as long as she did). My dad's maternal grandpa, John, was a Polish immigrant and he lived to be 83. I remember Great-Grandpa Janus as a bald and intimidating man who didn't smile much. I was 4 when he died and he's the only great-grandparent who was alive when I was.

Looking at his paternal grandparents, my dad probably didn't even know them well. His grandpa on that side (Dyer) died at the age of 63 in Michigan when my dad was 7. His grandma on that side (Mabel) died at the age of 69 in the Chicago area when my dad was 14. 

So, to sum it up, only 3 people in my dad's biological family lived to be older than 80. They were all men, which in itself, is surprising.

Being heavily involved in church communities for almost 30 years, I've learned that 80 is not that old. I know many, many vibrant, with-it, and active 80+ year old folks. Many of them have become friends, surrogate moms, or grandparents in earlier years. Of course, I wish my parents had been healthy enough to live longer. Cancer and dementia both suck (though my dad was blessed to die of a pulmonary embolism before the dementia debilitated much more than his very unique brain...which was bad enough). 

So, I remind you to hug those you love and appreciate the older people who bring you joy and happiness. May they live longer and healthier lives than most of my recent ancestors - at least those on my dad's side.