I will consider myself lucky if I see my son reach the age of 35. That’s 33 years away and by that point I’ll be 83.
I will consider myself lucky if I see my son reach the age of 30. That’s 28 years away and by that point I’ll be 78.
I say this purely because my Dad died when he was 73, Mum made it to 78 (including 13 years post stroke). That said my Dad’s death was sudden, as was my Mum’s, and both were in declining health so whilst it was a shock, neither death was completely unexpected.
Fair to say that my own mortality has been highlighted in no short measure recently.
When Becca and I decided to have a baby (even if that baby is now almost 4!) I knew and accepted that I would be an “old” Dad. Becca is a fair bit younger than me but I already knew that she absolutely wanted to have a child, it was a non-negotiable for her and we discussed it early in our relationship; I can still remember that conversation and when I went home and reflected on it I realised I wasn’t freaking out about possibly becoming a Dad regardless of my age.
I was already 48 when that discussion happened and I couldn’t help but think forward and wonder how things will be as I got older. Safe to say my age has always been in the back of my mind when it comes to thinking of my son’s future. Well, technically my age AND my health, but they are one and the same these days, ahh the joys of turning 50.
I have a desire to make sure that when I die, presuming it is at least a couple of decades away, that I will leave my wife and son in a good secure place. To me that has a myriad of meanings and, whilst it’s not purely financial, right now that’s my focus so the 5 year plan becomes a 10 year plan and other things that I had in mind for my future, like my retirement age, are currently being revised. Beyond that I feel confident that they will be safe, will have experienced as much love as I can possibly give (an unending amount), and can look back on our time together on this planet with fondness.
I will pause at this point to say that, despite the topic I am absolutely delighted to be privileged enough to be entertaining such thoughts. I know not everyone has what I have and that never leaves my mind. As I’ve said before, despite all of these ongoing thoughts I do my best to push them aside day by day but, of course, that means they need dealt with at some point, even if only from a practical point of view.
That means getting a will in place, considering what my funeral might look like – no black! Wild colours and silliness please, and if there isn’t ice cream afterwards I’ll be disappointed! – and where I want my ashes scattered (two spots spring to mind, the time I realised I was falling in love with Becca, and the second where I proposed to her, but I’ll hold off as I know Jack and I will find a special place we both love too!).
Though I am just being practical, this is not some lasting statement on the fragility of life, nor any fascination with my own death (as far away as possible and painlessly, please). If anything it’s a way to help me focus on my life today, to take time to enjoy the precious moments I have with Jack as he grows and flourishes, to savour the fact that I fell in love with an amazing woman who is my best friend, a beautiful nag, a formidable unstoppable force, and my absolute foundation.
Thinking about death is an odd thing, in a way it’s a bit like sex. Ummm that sounds weird, I just mean that it’s one of those things we just don’t talk about, do we. It feels odd just to be committing these thoughts to a permanent record, to be writing with full knowledge that this even will happen even though I am far from ready for it to occur.
It also strikes me that when I first started writing about this topic I presumed that I wouldn’t see Jack reach 40. Yet that is entirely possible, I’d only be 88 after all, and you know how I like a goal… bring on Project 90!
Month: July 2025
The Morbid Truth
Time to move
Well, not right now, but sometime in the next few years at least. Maybe… probably…
I dunno, I’ve given up trying to plan too much too far ahead so let’s call this future dreams that we hope will come true (note: a lot of this is, in reality, grounded in boring things like money but I’m ignoring that for the purposes of this post).
I grew up in Dumbarton, so did Becca, something we discovered not long after we first met and we then spent a few hours discussing what the town was like for us growing up which was, despite the age gap between us, surprisingly similar. It really shouldn’t have been a surprise though, towns like Dumbarton don’t really change all that much, and definitely don’t do it fast.
I moved away from Dumbarton in my early twenties, a new job taking me down to Aylesbury for a couple of years, before a move back to Scotland to sunny Bothwell and then Hamilton, before moving into Glasgow’s West End for several years. Then I met Becca, life took on a wonderfully different feel and, a year in a terrible rented house in Bothwell aside, we’ve made a happy home for Jack in the house Becca grew up in (yes, we rent from my in-laws, no it’s not stressful as they are wonderful and very chilled out and hey, we gave them a grandson!).
But over the past year or so Dumbarton has taken on a different quality for me, with memories of my childhood and early adulthood – the formative years if you will – are merging with more recent sadder memories of my Dad, my Mum, and my younger sister. As well as the everyday grief of thinking ‘ohhh Mum would love to hear this’ or ‘I’d better tell Jen that…’ and ‘Dad would know how best to do this…’ I now have locational memories of playing in the park that we take Jack too with my sister when she wasn’t much older than he is now, or getting ice cream with Mum & Dad in Helensburgh (Dino’s forever! Well Galone’s in the Vale but it shut down years ago), and I’ll be honest with all these emotions and memories barrelling at me day after day, it’s sometimes kinda hard to take.
I work at home almost exclusively these days which is wonderful for many reasons but will happily admit that NOT being out and about in Dumbarton, and having the constant barrage of mini-memories of my family in my face all the time, is yet another reason add to the list of benefits.
Don’t get me wrong, this isn’t an always state of mind, it is stuff that I don’t think about most of the time but when it hits, it’s hitting hard.
So we are moving!
Well, like I said, probably.
Truth be told I have very little family left in the West of Scotland. My Mum’s brother lives about 45 mins away, and I’m not that close with my cousins on that side of the family (I’m older than all three by enough years that there has never been a good crossover), and my cousins on my Dad’s side of the family who I am closer to now live in Australia and New Zealand (the ‘Aussie’ is over in a couple of weeks which will be great).
In short, there aren’t that many ties for me here any more. My best friends live in Glasgow and Edinburgh but seeing them is always something that takes a little arranging anyway so it makes little difference if I move further away, just means a little more planning on my side. Same for the days I need to be in the office, it would like mean an overnight in a hotel now and then but that’s definitely manageable.
There are my nieces of course, my goddaughter Daisy and her big sister Lucy; suffice to say that the ramifications of my sister’s death has made that situation a little tricky to navigate but they are always in my thoughts and, as they grow, hopefully I can explore a relationship with them in later life.
Becca and Jack are a different consideration though. Becca has friends here, a couple of besties that I know she would miss but given they trade WhatsApp voice notes and messages multiple times a day it might be workable. Jack will be at school if/when we do decide to move but at most he’ll only be in Primary 3 or 4 and I can barely remember GOING to school at that age so I think he’ll cope.
I say all this because we are considering moving up north to be nearer Becca’s brother who is near Aviemore. It’s a beautiful part of the country, and given how much time we like to spend outdoors, it’s far more geared up for that kind of lifestyle than the small provincial town in which we currently reside.
Note from Ed: Check that usage of ‘provincial’, sure it sounds all eloquent and ‘writery’ but you don’t live in a province ya numpty.
It would be a good base to explore more of the north of Scotland in Vera too (our motorhome for those not paying attention) and would mean when my in-laws come back to Scotland after their months abroad living their best retired lives, they’ll be close to both families. We have been thinking about it and have a couple of locations we’d prefer but of course that depends on the finances and general state of the world.
Time will tell, but the idea of living somewhere quieter, smaller, and with beautiful countryside on our doorstep really appeals. Quiet walks along country paths, long bike rides without having to negotiate irate drivers on busy roads, a slower way of life.
Dumbarton isn’t a bad place, like most towns it could be better, and we are lucky that we have beautiful countryside on our doorstep here too, it’s just that the proximity to Glasgow means it’s usually inundated with utter bampots who will happily queue for hours to double/triple/quadruple park at some of the easier to reach parts of Loch Lomond, and seem to pay little attention to what they leave behind. Yes tourists mean money but ugh, they also means noisy inconsiderate morons.
Ahem, no YOU’RE a grumpy old man!
Anyway, the current thinking is to move north. Probably. Or New Zealand. Or maybe Canada.
Right now it’s all a dream but we are starting to consider the move in terms of how we want to live our lives, what we really want from a location. What are our must-haves? Can we live without a good cafe nearby? Would we prefer to cycle everywhere if possible? Do we want to live near other houses or get something a little outside of a town? Do we move only a little north to keep Glasgow and Edinburgh closer?
There are so many questions and considerations but we have plenty of time to make a decision and one thing I’ve learned is not to sweat this too much, what will be will be and as long as Becca and Jack are safe and happy, that’s all I really need.
Well that and a nice large garden with plenty of shade for good afternoon naps…